


How Stiles Got Da Booty (And His Life Back In Order)

by Scruffy_Wolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom!Stiles, Bridesmaids AU, M/M, Stiles is a (failed!) baker, and Deputy Derek just wants to help him get his life in order, bottom!Derek, no knowledge of the original required, side Jackson/Stiles hate!sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 13:21:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scruffy_Wolf/pseuds/Scruffy_Wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being thirty sucked; Stiles bakery had gone out of business, his girlfriend had left him and he'd been forced to move in with these twins who had noisy sex with their respective partners and left milk in the fridge until it curdled. </p><p>Not to mention that since Scott had announced his engagement nothing that Stiles had organised for him had gone right, much to the amusement of his new BFF Isaac. </p><p>(i.e. The Sterek Bridesmaids AU where Stiles fails to get his life in order and pisses off Officer Hale to no end because he <i>never</i> gets his tail lights fixed.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Stiles Got Da Booty (And His Life Back In Order)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhoNatural](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoNatural/gifts).



> Whoa, this fic took a while for me to jack out, apologise for anyone who had been waiting for it.
> 
> Anyway, this came about because of [this](http://derek-tion.tumblr.com/post/55646716596/so-wheres-the-bridesmaids-au-with-stiles-as-the) prompt from Derek-tion on tumblr, and I kinda ran with it? Oops.
> 
> It shouldn't need any knowledge of the film, my beta has seen it once and barely remembered it and she was fine.
> 
> Special thanks to [Juily](http://officerstilinskihale.tumblr.com) as per usual, for beta'ing, even though she hated this film. As a thank you she got to name the fic. I regret that decision. 
> 
> I hope you guys like it like it ^_^
> 
> Also Allison proposed to Scott because Fuck Gender Norms

"So like," Stiles said, waving his fork as he spoke. "He was going like a fuckin' jackhammer in me, and I'm on my front, gasping, y'know, playing the part."

Scott nodded, as his nose wrinkled is distaste. Stiles just rolled his eyes and shoved a sausage in in his mouth, pausing to chew and swallow before Scott motioned for him to go on.

"And so, I'm like 'Yo, Jackson, lets, slow it down, y'know?' and I tried to set the pace a bit slower, flip us over so I'm on top and I can control it a bit more but then suddenly we're twisting and I'm on my back and he's just hammering into me again and again," Stiles said, clenching his fist and repeatedly hitting his other palm as he spoke. "All the while he's yelling 'Cup my balls! Cup my balls!’ How can someone with a dick that pretty have no clue what to do with it?"

Scott sighed, and reached over to steal Stiles' leftover bacon, ignoring the sad look on his face, "So what time did he call you this time?"

 "Like four am? I have his ringtone set to that song, what's it called?" Stiles snapped his fingers. "If I die and go to hell real soon... it will appear to me as this room."

"I can get sexual too," Scott supplied with a snigger. "Dude you set him as that booty call song by Say Anything!?"

"Well, I wasn't very well going to put on something sappy like 'Ho Hey!" now was I? The guy’s a dick."

Scott sighed, “I don’t even know why you keep sleeping with him, you said it yourself, he’s shit in bed."

"Yeah well," Stiles shrugged. "He's pretty. I'm powerless to say no."

"He told you that you should put on some weight 'cause you were too skinny," Scott said, pursing his lips.

'I am too skinny,"

"Are not, you're lean."

"Anyway," Stiles waved a hand, "That's not the point. The point is, all I want to do is teach him how to give a good dicking and maybe  how to ask for a blow job without just poking it at my face. Simple things man, simple things."

Scott rolled his eyes fondly at Stiles and leant back in his chair.

"So,” he said, changing the subject, “How are you and Al, man, all good in the hood? Has whatever weird shit she was going through stopped now?"

 "Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that," Scott said with a sheepish grin. Stiles frowned as Scott reached over and grabbed the milk jug, pouring a drop in his coffee before offering it to Stiles. Stiles frowned, Scott knew he didn’t take milk and he was holding the jug at such a weird angle, why would he do tha-

"OH MY GOD IS THAT AN ENGAGEMENT RING?!" Stiles yelped, grabbing Scott by the wrist to inspect his finger, the jug thudding down onto the table and splashing milk over Stiles left over breakfast.

Scott blushed as everyone in the restaurant turned to look at them following Stiles’ outburst. "Stiles, shush, everyone's looking."

"Let them look!" Stiles said excitedly before glancing around at the curious faces and getting to his feet, "Sorry, everyone, but my friend just got engaged!”

Stiles yanked Scott's hand skyward, showing off the thick silver band around his left ring-finger, while Scott's head lolled over and he smiled at Stiles exasperatedly. "Really?"

"What d'ya mean, 'really?'? Of fucking course dude!" Stiles said, leaning over the table to pull Scott into a hug. "You're engaged, I'm gonna make a big deal about it, I'm thrilled for you."

"Yeah,” Scott said, rubbing his hand up and down Stiles' back. "Me too."

They broke apart as Scott's phone chirped to life, "Sorry Stiles, one minute... Oh it's Allison."

"Oh, okay," Stiles said, waving a hand at Scott, "You go talk to Allison, I'll be fine, I’m just gonna finish eating."

Stiles watched as Scott got up from his seat and stepped outside the store, talking quickly on his phone, before Stiles ducked his head and finished his breakfast.

 

~

 

Scott ended up going back to Allison's place, which was in the opposite direction from Stiles’ apartment. He'd gotten a lift in with Scott, which meant that he had to walk home. Well, Scott had offered to drive him back first but Stiles had waved him off, it wasn’t like a bit of walking would kill him.

He wasn't paying attention to anything, completely caught up in his own train of thought when he drew to a halt, and found himself standing in the middle of the street, staring at a closed down bakery.

 Well, his closed down bakery.

He sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. What sort of genius opened a bakery during a recession? Not only that, what sort of genius opened a bakery with his girlfriend of only a year?! Well, that was just it, wasn’t it? Stiles was never the genius, that’d been Lydia, who took off to New York the first chance she got.

He frowned at the sign again, the A had fallen off since the last time he was here so all was left was 'C KE BABY"

Stiles shoved his hands into his pocket, turned, and continued his walk home.

 

~

 

The next two weeks passed in a blur of excitement and champagne, and it seemed like no time at all had passed before Stiles was driving around to pick up his dad for Scott's engagement party.

He let himself into his Dad's house with the key kept under the mat to find his dad pulling it open from the other side, confused look on his face.

"Stiles? What are you doing here?"

"Uh, it's Scott's engagement party, you remember about that?"

His dad winced, face falling, "Oh, sorry I forgot about that, I've gotta speak tonight... at AA."

 Stiles tried not to pout, he fully appreciated his dad's efforts to stay sober and wanted to help him out in all of his endeavours to do so, but it was Scott’s engagment!

"Stiles," his dad warned.

"Sorry, sorry, it's just... it's Scott's engagement, y'know?" Stiles sighed, "Fine, Can I get a cup of coffee before I go though?"

His dad stepped aside to let him past, "In you come, kid."

His dad hadn't moved since Stiles was a child, so the house was just as Stiles had left it when he'd moved out thirteen years prior, down to the pictures on the refrigerator and the blankets draped over the couch.

Stiles sat down as his dad started making some coffee in the kitchen. "So, there's actually been something I've been wanting to talk to you about," his dad started.

"Hmm?" Stiles asked, propping his feet up on the table and leaning back.

"Yeah, so in AA there's been this guy I'm mentoring, and I won't get into his story because it's all meant to be confidential," he started, putting down two mugs of coffee on the table and sitting across from Stiles.

"I hope that's decaf," Stiles said, raising an eyebrow.

"Sure it is, anyway kid, so a lot of stuff went on in his life, got involved in drugs and such and he so ended up hitting what we call his ‘bottom’."

 Stiles frowned, tilting his head, "His ass?"

"No I mean rock bottom.” His dad paused, taking a deep breath, before looking up and locking eyes with Stiles, “I know it's been hard for you since Lydia left-"

"Dad."

"-And the business went under-"

"Dad."

"-And now I’m just worried that since Scott's gonna get married, it might feel like he's leaving you behind-"

"Dad!" Stiles yelled sharply. "I'm fine, okay? I'm not at rock bottom, or anywhere near it. I've got a job, an apartment, Scott's still my best friend, and I might have a new boyfriend!"

There was a pause, before the sheriff raised his eyebrow, "Really?"

"It's... it's new, we haven’t got a label yet."

His dad’s shoulders slumped and he sighed, "Stiles."

"No, no judgement, okay? Isn't that one of the core... thingeys of AA?"

His dad smiled sadly, "I love you kiddo, y'know if you need to you can always move back home. I mean it, I know your roommate's... not the best of people, you're not doing great money wise-"

"Dad," Stiles interrupted, leaning forward. "Thank you, but I would rather eat my own tongue."

"Seriously, your room’s still-"

"My. Own. Tongue." Stiles repeated. "Like, I don't know how it would work, but if someone came up to me and was like 'eat your own tongue, or move in with your dad!' I'd eat my own tongue. Y'know, depending on the leverage he had, 'cause-"

"I get it, Stiles," his dad said dryly, giving him a faint smile. "C'mon, you better get moving kid if you've got this party to get to."

Stiles glanced at the clock and jumped to his feet, "Holy shit, it's starting in like twenty minutes."

He pulled his dad into a quick hug and dashed out of the door, "I'll see you later, Dad.”

“Love you, kiddo,”

 

~

 

Stiles found himself stood in the middle of a country club lounge, making small talk with Allison’s... excentric uncle, Finstock, who apparently was a highschool Lacross coach. God Stiles felt sorry for those kids, a feeling which only intensified after Finstock gave a speach for Allison that turned out to be the entire end monologue of ‘Indapendance Day’, with next to no alterations.

“Anyway, so there’s this kid on the team, called Greenberg,” Finstock continued, “and I just... I don’t know what it i about the kid, but there’s something about him that I just instinctively hate. Honstly it’s hilarious, the kid craps himself every time I say his name.”

It didn’t sound hilarious, but then Stiles wasn’t a high school Lacross coach, he was sure that with a job like that you would need to take what ammusement you could get.

“Huh, and so, do you teach anything or are you just the coach?”

“Teach?” Finstock mumbled through his mouthful of some sort of canapae, before he swallowed, “Yeah I teach economics.”

Stiles nodded as though he would’ve guessed that, but really economics would’ve probably ben the last thing he would’ve pegged Finstock for. He could really see him being some sorty of crazy shop teacher that would decorate the workshop with fake seveared thumbs as a warning to the students.

“What about you, Stilinski, what do you do for a living?”

“Me?” Stiles asked, “Oh I used to be a baker but I work in a jewellery store now.”

“That’s good,” Finstock nodded. “Cakes are horrible for fat, and the ammount of sugar? God, I’d ban them from the highschool if I could, it’s terrible, all my lacross players spend all winter stuffing their faces and putting on weight and I have to spend two weeks at the beginging of the summer whipping them back into shape.”

Stiles blinked, “Well-”

But he was saved from coming up with a responce by Scott coming up behind him and slinging an arm over his shoulder, “Hey man, so I see you met Allison’s Uncle.”

“Yeah, uh, I did,” Stiles turned back to Finstock and held out his hand, “It was nice to see you, I suppose I’ll see you around.”

Finstock grasped his hand firmly and gave him a slightly unhinged grin, “See you at the bachelor party then.”

They both watched as Finstock dissapeared before Scott broke down into snickers.

“Oh my god,” Stiles moaned, running his hands over his face in abject horror. He looked back at Scott who was leaning against the wall, holding his ribs as he tried to stop from laughing. Stiles dug an elbow into his gut, “No, stop that, I can’t believe you left me alone with that guy! Is he legitamately insane? I can’t believe they let him work with kids.”

Scott wiped away a tear, grinning at Stiles, “Honestly you have no idea of the half of it, he keeps trying to give us suggestions for the wedding and they’re all ridiculous. He suggested that we held the reception on the school’s lacross pitch because, and I quote, he ‘could get a really good deal!’”

Stiles laughed, “That guy... Well at least he’s interesting. Anyway, now I need to meet this guy Isaac that you keep going on about, and then I think I’m probably gonna shoot.”

“So soon?” Scott made a face.

Stiles pointedly looked at the clock, “Scott it’s half eleven, I’ve got work tomorow.”

Scott’s eyes widened in abject horror, “What?! When did that happen?!”

“Exactly, now, unlike you, I have done this party completely sobar and I really could do with getting home.”

“Yeah no dude, let’s just go find Isaac then,” Scott said, shoving an arm over Stiles’s shoulder and guiding him out of the livingroom.

Truth be told, Stiles had wanted to go home almost instantly, Scott and Allison's engagement party had been this classy tasteful event, taking place in the country club where Scott worked. There had been so many people Stiles hadn't recognised there, and it had seemed so un... Scott like. Stiles had known Scott for all his life, Scott wasn't this tasteful country-club kinda guy, Scott was the type of guy to participate in eating contests in side-of-the-road diners and get way too drunk on tequila.

They headed through to the bar, and Scott perked up, “Awesome, there’s Isaac, c’mon man, I’ll introduce you.”

Stiles let himself be guided over to the bar where Isaac presumably was. Scott went up and wrapped an arm over some tall blonde man’s shoulder and turned him around, grinning at Stiles.

“Stiles, this is Isaac.”

Stiles looked Isaac up and down, and he did not like what he saw. Isaac was tall, really tall, and he had on this hansome three piece suit, and a pea overcoat with a scarf tied around his neck. Stiles reserved the right to automatically distrust anyone who wore scarves indoors.

Isaac smiled at him, and it even looked genuine, before holding out a hand, “Hi Stiles, I’m Isaac, Scott’s best friend, it’s nice to finally meet you, Scott’s told me so much about you!”

Stiles smiled back, “Yeah well,’ he shrugged, “It’s nice to meet you too, finally.”

An awkward pause fell over the three of them, before Isaac turned back to Scott, “So, Scott, remeber that think I was talking about earlier? About the Hendersons?”

“Yeah, what happened?” Scott asked eagerly.

“Well it turns out..”

Stils resisted the urge to bang his head down repeatedly on something as Scott and Isaac started to discuss the boring ass lives of some of Scott’s co-workers. Stiles slung back the champagne glass full of orange juice, wishing, and not for the first time that night, that it was something stronger. Like champagne. Or rum.

Fuck his life.

 

 ~

 

"Stupid Isaac, and his stupid designer scarfs, and his stupid fancy country club membership," Stiles muttered angrily.

"'Oh, I'm Isaac, I'm Scott's best friend,'" Stiles mimicked in a whiny voice. "'It's not like I've only known Scott for a few months, or that we're only friends 'cause my wife is his boss, ha ha ha ha!"

Stiles was vaguely aware that he was swerving across the road, while he tossed his head around in a loud fake laugh, but he didn't think it would matter that much since it was midnight and the roads were empty. He was wrong though, as suddenly he could hear the wail of police sirens and spotted the lights in his rear view mirror.

"Oh shit," Stiles muttered to himself, "Shit shit shit."

He sighed and pulled the Jeep over into a lay-by and rolled down his window as the cop car pulled up behind him. He drummed his fingers against the wheel restlessly before the cop  came to a halt infront of his window, his dad was going to kill him.

"Hello there officer," Stiles said brightly, turning to meet the cops gaze. "What can I do to you- FOR YOU! What can I do for you!?"

The officer paused, before letting out an exasperated sigh, "Are you drunk?"

"Who, me?" Stiles said, laughing nervously. The cop shot him another disapproving look, and Stiles ducked his head meekly. "No sir, not had a drop to drink."

"Please get out the car," the officer demanded.

"Okay officer...?"

"Hale,' he sighed. "Now please get out the car, I would like to run a few sobriety tests."

Stiles swallowed, before slightly pouting, "Aw, come on, I can't pass those things when I'm sober!” he paused, “ Y’know, not that I’m not sober right now, cause i’m plenty sober. I kinda wish I wasn’t though- I’m just gonna shut up right now."

Officer Hale looked as if he were severely regretting pulling Stiles over. Stiles pushed open his door and hopped out of the jeep, legs flailing as he did. Hale shot him a look that looked like 'there is no way in hell you've not been drinking.'

"I swear, sober as a judge," Stiles said, holding his hands up.

"If I could ask you to walk along the line, touching your index finger to your nose as you go," Hale instructed him.

Stiles rolled his eyes, smirking, "Do you want to check out the goods?"

Oh god, why did he say that? He was going to get himself arrested then he was gonna have to explain to his father he got arrested for hitting on a cop. Fuck, his father was a cop, he was definitely going to find out about this, whether Stiles told him or not. He was never gonna be able to show his face in the station again. Ever.

"Please walk the line Mr. Stilinski," Hale said, surprisingly patient, not dropping his gaze.

"How do you know my name?" Stiles demanded, as he started to walk up and down the line by the side of the highway, carefully laying out his foot heel to toe infront of the other while he tried to touch his nose with his index fingers. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to talk while attempting this.

"The distinctive blue jeep was a bit of a give away, and I've seen you around the station before," Hale said dryly.

"Urgh," Stiles moaned, turning around, "Can I stop now? You can see I'm sober."

"You can stop when I tell you to," Hale said firmly. Stiles rolled his eyes and turned around on his heel, before continuing to wake carefully along the line back towards Hale.

"Happy?" Stiles asked.

"I'm still gonna have to give you a ticket," Hale said, turning back towards his car.

"What, why?" Stiles moaned, stomping his feet.

"Oh, I dunno, are you aware what brake lights are for?"

Stiles let out a groan, yanking open the door to his jeep, "Oh my god, Dad's been getting on at me about that since forever, is there anyway you can just maybe skip the ticket this one time? I promise I'll get them fixed ASAP."

Stiles blinked up at Officer Hale, bottom lip jutting out every so slightly.Hale seemed to consider this for a moment, before he held out his hand, "No, licence and registration please Mr. Stilinski."

"Urgh," Stiles moaned. "Fine."

He handed over his documents to Officer Hale. Great, he was getting a ticket, it was officially was the shittiest night ever.

"You used to run that bakery didn't you?" Hale asked. "Cake Baby?"

Stiles blinked, "You used to go there?"

"Yeah, you made really good cakes," Hale said, small smile crossing his face. "I live just down the street from there. Who was that girl, y'know the one always working behind the till... Short, redhead?"

"Oh," Stiles said, stomach sinking. "That was Lydia, she was my girlfriend at the time. She left shortly before the business went under."

"Oh," Hale said. "That sucks."

"Yeah."

Stiles looked back down at the steering wheel, away from the pity on Hale’s face. He didn't want anyone's pity; what he wanted was his life back, his nice central apartment with Lydia, his bakery, and Scott as his unquestioned BFF, not the shitty little place he lived now with his horrible twin roommates who kept leaving dirty underwear around, and his awful job working in a jewellery store.

Stiles heard the sound of ripping paper and quirked his head up curiously, "What are you doing?"

Hale sighed, "Look, forget about the ticket-"

"Oh my god, thank you, I could kiss you!"

"Well don't," Hale said. "Just do me a favor?"

"Anything! You name it!"

"Get your tail lights fixed!" Hale ordered, before pulling out a business card from his top pocket. "This is a mechanic, if you mention my name you should get a pretty big discount."

"Thank you thank you thank you!" Stiles yelled, grinning enthusiastically. Hale shot him a look, inhaling deeply through his nose.

"I mean it, Stiles, get them fixed" Hale warned, before turning off and heading back to his car.

Stiles totally didn't watch his ass in the wing mirror as he walked away.

 

~

 

Stiles was beginning to wonder where Scott found the rest of his groomsmen, because none of them seemed to like Stiles, despite how hard he tried. For example, since Scott’s wedding was in three months, they were finally starting to try and organize things. As Scott’s best man, Stiles had organized suit shopping, he'd found a great wedding shop that they could go to, and had even suggested they went out to lunch before shopping. He thought it was a great plan, but all of the men all looked like they would rather chew their own arm off than eat at the restaurant Stiles was recommending.

"Seriously guys, I mean, I love this restaurant, it's awesome, trust me on this, it's authentic Mexican food."

To be honest, Stiles wasn't sure when Scott had made so many boring friends, well, Finstock wasn't really Scott's friend but Scott had needed another groomsman to match up with Allison's bridesmaids and he had voluenteered. But there was still Danny and Boyd, who were both strong quiet types, not to mention Isaac. Stupid, posh boring Isaac, with his posh designer scarves and posh English accent.

Stiles didn't like Isaac much, Isaac was a bit up his own ass to put it bluntly.

It was the first thing event since the engagement party, so he hadn't really seen Isaac since, and almost had thought he might've been a bit quick to judge him, but from the minute Stiles had rolled up in his Jeep, Isaac had had his condescending gaze on him.

Scott spoke up first, grinning widely at him, "I know it looks a bit sketchy guys, but Stiles does have a knack for this kinda thing. Once he dragged me to this tiny little seafood restaurant, that was like down an ally way and up a staircase and, I'm pretty sure it was actually someone's living room, but it was the best seafood I've ever had."

Stiles preened.  "C'mon then guys!" he turned and started walking toward the restaurant, pulling Scott along with him.

"I love Mexican," he heard Isaac say quietly, his tone uncertain as they stepped through the door into the small, cozy restaurant.

They were seated quickly, supplied with fruity cocktails, everyone warming significantly to the place.

Scott sat in the middle of the table, and lifted a glass, "I just wanted to say, thanks you guys, for coming, and for being so great in all of the wedding stuff. And y'know, cheers!" 

Stiles nodded, lifting his glass and clinking it against Scott's just as the food came out.

"Oh my god, this looks really good," Scott said, before casting a glance over to Isaac. "Are you not eating any meat?"

"Oh, no,' Isaac said, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck. "I'm, uh, I'm not too sure about eating too much before the suit fitting, y'know?"

Stiles shrugged, and reached over to grab the salt and pepper shaker from the middle of the table, "Whatever man, your loss!"

 

~

 

"Right guys, here we go..." Stiles said, coming to a halt infront of the boutique wedding store, putting his hands on his hips. The store was one of the best in town, Stiles defiently had hit it out of the park with this one.

Scott grinned and clapped him on the shoulder, "Nice choice! Allison said I should go here!"

"Good idea," Isaac piped up. "This is a great store, I came here for my wedding suit."

'Thanks," Stiles said with a smirk, score; Stiles −1, Isaac - 0! He reached over and pressed the buzzer on the front of the door, and was greeted by a prim receptionist with a phony French accent.

"Hello, Reservation name?" the receptionist requested in a gravely, deep voice.

"Oh no," Stiles said, leaning into the speaker, "We're just here to y'know, try on some tuxes for a wedding and that."

"The next opening for groomsmen tux fittings is in 7 weeks," the voice informed him snidely. "Would you like me to make a reservation?"

"Oh," Stiles said, "no that-"

Isaac stepped in front of him with a sigh, "Bonjour, Peter? C'est Isaac."

"Isaac Lahey?!" The intercom said cheerfuly, "Super d'avoir de tes nouvelles! J'espère que tu vas bien et que tu es en bonne santè?"

"Oui, Oui! Et tu?" Isaac laughed cheerfully, before turning back around with a bashful expression on his face, ducking his head, "Wait, sorry guys, I'll switch back to English. Peter, any chance you can fit us in last minute? I know it's-"

"Isaac, for you? Anything."

The door buzzed open, ahead of them, and Isaac lead the way cheerfully up the stairs, where a gentleman he assumed was Peter was holding the door open. They stepped past Peter, spilling into the empty store. It was hideously fancy, all oak wood and leather couches, with impeccably dressed staff. Stiles looked down at his converse, before he tucked his hands behind his back.

Stupid Isaac, and his stupid childhood spent in Europe with his fancy connections and foreign languages. Stiles could speak some Spanish, you didn't hear him whipping it out randomly whenever he got the chance. Well, considering his level of fluency there wasn't all too much chance, but he still didn't, 'cause he wasn't a show off.

"Isaac!" The man holding the door open said fondly, holding his hand out. Isaac shook it, smiling.

 "Peter, again, thank you for fitting us in, on such short notice as well!"

"Pft, it was no problem," Peter continued in the same french accent. "So what can we do for you today?"

"Well," Isaac said, looping an arm over Scott's shoulder and pulling him forward. "My best friend here is getting married and we need groomsman’s suits!"

Scott wasn't Isaac's best friend, Scott was Stiles'. Isaac needed to back off.

"Oh how nice," Peter smiled. "Okay, well boys feel free to browse, there is no hurry. I'm sure you'll find something to your tastes."

They started to wander around the Store. Scott immediatly honned in on a rather traditional looking tux, “I’m gonna try this one on guys, you have a look for groomsmens suits while I’m gone, okay?”

“Yeah sure, buddy,” Stiles grinned, turning back to the store rails to try and see if he he could find something that wouldn’t bancrupt him.

Isaac, however, immediately gravitated towards a three piece suit hanging up in pride of place in the middle of the store as soon as Scott stepped into the changing rooms, "Guys, look at this? Isn't this gorgeous?"

Who even said gorgeous except for female bitchy models?

Stiles frowned, tilting his head at the suit. It was nice, he had to admit. He reached behind it and grabbed the price tag, eyes widening.

"Uh, I mean, yeah, it's nice, but like," Stiles looked around the shop, backing off towards another two suits hanging up in the wardrobe, before inspecting the price and pulling out the cheapest. "What about... this one?"

Boyd frowned, tilting his head, "It's bright red."

"Exactly, red, y'know, the colour of romance! It's fun, not to mention the theme colour of the wedding is red," Stiles said enthusiastically wiggling the suit in front of him. God, he felt awful, he must've gotten the flu or something because he was burning up, he could feel himself sweating.

"I don't know," Isaac said, "I mean, it is a nice suit, but I just feel like this is much more traditional, and- Finstock!”

They were interrupted by a fart. Stiles smothered a giggle as he turned to see Finstock looking sheepish. "Sorry guys, couldn't help it."

Isaac sighed, "Yeah, well anyway-"

Finstock let out another loud fart. Stiles and Isaac turned around abruptly to see him leaning against the couch, face pale. Boyd and Danny also looked similarly pale, a sheen of sweat covering their brows.

"Oh my god, I don't care what suit we get, I'm not feeling great," Danny said, dashing towards the bathroom.

Finstock similarly paled, putting a hand to his mouth, and dashed after Danny into the bathroom.

 Peter's eyes went wide, "Oh lord, boys, no, there's a restaurant across the street, please, go there!" He said, running down the hall towards the bathroom, Boyd running after him for what was presumably for a very different reason.

God, no way this was happening. Stiles had eaten there at least ten times and he'd never gotten food poisoning. Isaac was looking at him with a stupid smug smirk, folding his arms across his chest. Stiles kept his head up high, sliding his thumbs into his pockets and keeping his gaze steady.

"I think they must have the flu," Stiles shrugged. "I've got a pretty strong immune system-"

"I'm sure it was that restaurant," Isaac interrupted, tilting his head in fake sympathy. "You look pretty sick Stiles."

"What me? Nah, I'm fine man, the picture of health," Stiles said, forcing a lazy grin across his face and crossing his arms over his chest, rocking back on his heels.

"Are you sure? I mean, you're sweating through three layers of clothing," Isaac said, gesturing to the stains under Stiles' armpit. "The beef looked a bit... gray."

"Yeah, just a bit hot, y'know," Stiles laughed, dropping his arm quickly to his side, he could feel sweat dripping down his brow. He hoped it didn't look as bad as it felt. "I actually think I'm a bit hungry-"

He was interrupted by Scot laying a hand on his shoulder, looking sick to his stomach and sweating profusely, half dress in the suit’s shirt and pants. "Stiles, I think the food at that restaurant was off, Finstock's shitting in the the sink and Boyd threw up on Dan- oh god."

He pushed off of Stiles' shoulder, and dashed out of the front door, clutching his stomach.

Isaac ran out of the store, Stiles following on his tail, "Oh god, Scotty, what are you-

They ran out of the store and down the side alley where Scott had squatted behind a dumpster just out of sight.

"Oh god," Isaac breathed.

"Fuck, yup, you're really shitting in the street," Stiles said, rubbing the back of his head and wincing.

 Scott raised his hand, not moving from his position as Peter rounded the corner and paled, "Oh Lord."

"We'll take 5 of the Ted Bakers," Isaac said sadly after a beat. "Apologies about this."

 

~

 

Sleeping with Jackson always seemed to be something he started to regret halfway through.

Well, halfway through for Stiles, since Jackson usually had just finished painfully early, god the guy fucked like a teenager. Had no one ever taught him any better because they were all too busy staring at his face?

He really didn’t know why he kept coming back whenever Jackson called. Well, he kinda did, it wasn’t like he was getting a lot of other offers and, y’know, a man has needs and what not. Jackson was available and warm and bad sex was still better than jacking off alone.

He was dragged out of his train of thought by Jackson roughly pushing one finger into his ass. Stiles let out a hiss as his nail caught on his rim.

"Yeah, you like that?" Jackson asked.

 "God, could you at least cut your nails?" Stiles bit back. He couldn't see Jackson's face, what with being spread on his hands and knees with his ass high up in the air, but he imagined he looked affronted because there was another finger promptly shoved in between his cheeks. Stiles’ head fell down onto the pillow between his arms, more through laziness than anything related to pleasure.

He'd already prepped himself up alone when his phone had gone off at 4am, it was a a reflex; he checked his phone with one hand and grabbed the lube with the other. The thing was, Jackson tended to get bored of foreplay. Stiles, well Stiles loved foreplay, couldn't get enough of it, but Jackson just seemed to be checking off a list until he could stick his dick in something. A couple times he went too fast so it was pretty damn uncomfortable on Stiles side of things at least, so Stiles had started to prep himself up at home, just to make sure he was nice and loose. It was more convenient anyway.

The fingers up his ass scissored, and one brushed his prostate, causing Stiles to let out an unwilling mew of pleasure. "Oh fuck,' Stiles muttered before the third and final finger was pushed between Stiles cheeks, probing at him.

Okay so Jackson was pretty hopeless, but then he was hot and even a stopped clock was right twice a day.

"You ready?" Jackson breathed.

No, Stiles wanted to say. No keep doing this, do this all fuckin' night, please. Make me beg, make me writhe.

 "Sure, put it in, dude," Stiles said, keeping his gaze firmly on the pillows. He could feel Jackson shifting around behind him, leaning over to grab the lube and-

"We've been fucking over this dude," Stiles said as he felt the wet head of Jackson's cock on his ass cheek. He shifted away slightly and looked over his shoulder with a glare, "Condom. Now."

"But," Jackson pouted. "It's not like you can get-"

"Dude, for fuck’s sake! Condom on or I go home."

Jackson rolled his eyes, before reaching over Stiles back towards the bedside table, yanked out the drawer and pulled out an condom. He smirked, "It's ribbed, 'for her pleasure'."

 "If you infer I'm a girl again Jackson I'm gonna rip your nuts from your body and shove them down your throat, now dry your cock off, fucking lube up and put it in, I'm losing my hard-on here," Stiles snapped, shuffling further up the bed and turning to face the headboard again.

He heard Jackson sigh, and grab the towel from by Stiles' side, there was an awkward minute of Stiles waiting with his ass high in the air, twiddling his thumbs before he felt the blunt head of Jackson’s dick at his hole, then he was pushing his hips forward quickly. Stiles focused on breathing, bearing down as Jackson breached the ring of muscle. Stiles huffed out a breath as Jackson steadily pressed forward slightly faster than Stiles would've liked.

"Fuckin' slow down a bit," Stiles hissed, as Jackson's hips pressed flush against his ass. "Gimme a minute to adjust."

Jackson huffed out a sigh as he reached a hand around and groped at Stiles, he had gone mostly soft during the initial push but he was starting to harden again. Stiles closed his eyes and tried to focus on the sensation of Jackson roughly stroking him. "You can move now," Stiles said finally.

"Ungh," Jackson moaned, hips pressing flush against Stiles’ ass. He let go of Stiles’ cock, gripping his hips so tight Stiles was gonna have bruises by the end of it.

Like always, it wasn't the most coordinated of sex; Jackson seemed to have next to no clue where his prostate actually was, but he occasionally brushed up against it, mostly accidentally, which sent sparks coursing through Stiles’ veins, his stomach twisting with pleasure.

Stiles reached down a hand and gripped his cock, head down face first on the pillow as he tugged at himself to full hardness, willing his mind not to wander away and just to stay in the moment, pay attention to the pleasure as Jackson hammered home.

He was suddenly assaulted by the thought of Officer Hale. 

 Stiles gritted his teeth to stop himself from calling out the wrong name, as he pictured Hale thrusting into him from behind, leaning against his back, breathing in his ear. The hands gripping his hips tightened, thrusts turning deeper and urgent. Stiles could remember Hale’s bright gaze, strong forearms, and suddenly all he could focus on the sensation of being filled repeatedly, and the pleasure building as he gripped his cock tighter.

Suddenly, before he knew what was happening he was coming, hard, letting down a strangled gasp as he clenched down, free hand twisting in the bedsheets. He felt Jackson thrust deep against him once more, before there was the telltale pulsing in his ass, and Jackson was grasping Stiles’ hips close against his, letting out a groan. He was holding too tight, but Stiles knew it would be over in a few seconds so he gritted his teeth until he felt Jackson let go of his hips and grab the base of his penis, pulling out slowly. Stiles dropped down, onto the bed, rolling onto his side to miss the puddle of come on the comforter.

"Dude, could you not have got the towel underneath you before you spunked all over my bed?" Jackson moaned, getting up to his feet and padding across the room to get rid of the used condom.

"Urgh, stop complaining, just be glad I came around at this time of morning," Stiles sighed, bringing a hand up over his eyes. He was vaguely aware that he should probably have been cleaning himself up and getting the hell out of there but he just needed a minute to gather his wits again.

Fuck.

Did he just imagine Hale when having sex? Fuck, he'd only met the dude once, and he didn't even know if he swung that way. He didn’t even know his first name.

Stiles felt Jackson fall onto the bed next to him and clear his throat. Stiles looked over and opened one bleary eye.

"Yes?"

"I don't mean to seem like a dick, but you're not staying, are you?"

Stiles sighed, and sat up, "No, I was just resting a minute dude. I'll get my pants on."

"Glad to hear it. See you next time Stilinski."

Stiles sighed and rolled out of bed, reaching over to grab his briefs and shimmying into them.

Jackson was already asleep on the come-stained bedding by the time he left. Stiles pocketed $20 off of his bedside table for gas home, it totally wasn't stealing, just compensation for the damage done to his asshole.

 

~

 

Okay so he knew what he looked like; his hair was sweaty and dishevelled, his neck bitten and bruised with hickeys, he was walking slightly oddly 'cause he could feel lube slipping out of his tender ass, and Jackson had torn his shirt at the neck in his haste to get it off.

 But it was 6am, and he didn't give a fuck, so he parked his car and headed into a 24hr convenience store, he needed to get some energy drink if he was gonna manage to stay up all day, not to mention he was out of snacks, and he may as well get some new lube while he was there; he always forgot to pick up a new bottle until it was too late. 

He was stood at the fridges at the back of the store, deciding if he wanted to forgo the planned energy drink and instead just go straight for the wine when he heard a tapping.

Stiles frowned and turned to see Officer Hale standing two feet away clutching a pack of ice lollies.

"Oh," Stiles said, "Hi again."

Hale's brows furrowed, "You okay there?"

"Who me?" Stiles faked a laugh. "Yeah, dude, course I am."

Hale was still frowning, unconvinced. "Something's up..."

"No, nothing, just... boy trouble," Stiles sighed finally, ducking his head as his cheeks flushed red.

 "Anything I can help with?" Hale asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"What? No dude, I'm fine," Stiles said, rolling his eyes and grabbing a bottle of sports drink and throwing it into the basket he was carrying. "See? Got my Mountain Dew, got my-"

Stiles cut off abruptly as he realised that the only other things in his basket were a chocolate bar, a packet of kleenex and some lube. Fucking hell.

"Uh, anyway," Stiles said awkwardly. "I'd better go pay for this."

He rushed off, blushing furiously before he grabbed a couple bags of doritos, and paid for his purchase, ignoring the snicker that the checkout worker gave him as she scanned his things, she had undoubtably seen the exchange between himself and Officer Hale.

 He gathered up his things into a bag, and stepped out into the nearly empty car park to see Hale sat on the hood of the police cruiser, and fuck if that shouldn't have been illegal or something. God, surely people shouldn't be allowed to look that hot? How had Hale even beaten him out into the car park?

"You want a carrot stick?" Hale asked, holding up a plastic tub of carrots.

Stiles frowned, tilting his head, "What, really?"

"Sure, why not," Hale shrugged. “I’m Derek by the way.”

Stiles reached out and grabbed one of the carrot sticks, before sitting down next to Derek on the hood of his car. “Nice name, thanks for the carrot stick.”

Derek shrugged, “It’s six am, I’ve got nothing else to do.”

“So,” Stiles started, leaning back on his fore arms as he popped the carrot stick into his mouth. “How’s youre life?”

“Just great, really exciting being a cop and all,” Derek deadpanned. He paused, and sighed, “I mean, it’s good, I just... my family are in New York. I miss them sometimes, but I don’t like the city.”

“Yeah? You got a big family?”

A smile spread over Derek’s face, “Yeah, big enough, y’know? A handful of cousins, aunts, uncles, and I’ve got two sisters, Laura and Cora-”

Stiles snickered. Derek shot him a look, but it didn’t help, Stiles couldn’t help his laughter. He put a hand over his mouth, calming down, before he grinned at Derek’s scowl, “C’mon dude, Laura and Cora? Really? Were they hoping to have a brother for you and name him Eric?”

Derek rolled his eyes, “Shut up.”

“No no, honestly I’ll stop now, tell me more about your family please?” Stiles said, attempting to bat his eyes. He was sure he looked ridiculous, but it seemed to work, because Derek just gave him a resigned sigh, held the carrot bag out to him and continued talking.

“Laura’s older, Cora’s younger, they’re both married, Laura’s got two kids and Cora’s got one on the way.”

Stiles let out a low whistle, “Christ, family reunions in the Hale House must be pretty busy. So what, are you the black sheep of the family because you’ve not settled down yet?”

Derek shrugged, “Maybe a little.”

Stiles pursed his lips, “What is it, you don’t like commitment? Oh I know, you’re shit with kids!”

Derek laughed, “I’m Laura’s kid’s favourite uncle.”

Stiles blinked at the mental image of Derek with his nieces and nephews, wearing some sort of princess tiara and a grin, and god, Stiles could get behind that image. Or any image of Derek doing anything.

“Lies dude, all lies to stroke your ego I’m sure,” Stiles grinned, grabbing annother carrot. He wondered if there was a subtle way to ask if someone was single. There probably wasn’t.

“What about you then?” Derek queeried, turning his gaze to Stiles. Stiles found himself stuck staring staring at his face for a minute.

It honestly wasn’t fair that he was allowed to look like that, people didn’t look like that outside of heavily photoshopped advertisments, christ, he had stubble and cheekbones and perfectly tossled hair. He shook his head, internally mocking his own word choice, he needed to get a grip; so what if Derek was pretty? Loads of guys were pretty.

“Yeah, no, it’s just me and my dad now, Mom died when I was a kid,” Stiles said finally, looking away from Derek’s eyes quickly. “But he’s a pretty awesome dad, y’know?”

“I’m sure he is,” Derek replied, bumping his shoulder against Stiles’. Stiles glanced back at him, giving him a small smile.

They sat like that in silence, staring up at the sky, the dark of the night had bled away slowly while they were talking, leaving the sun peaking over the horizon in it’s absence.

“You think you’ll open another bakery?” Derek asked eventually.

Stiles sighed, dragging a hand through his hair before he flopped down onto the hood of the car, lying horizontally, “I dunno man, I mean, I’m kinda broke.”

“You were really good though,” Derek said, leaning back next to Stiles, latching one hand behind his head. “I dunno I just think it’d be a waste.”

“Yeah well,” Stiles shrugged, “The people of Beacon Hills obviously don’t. I dunno I just think that that part of my life might be over, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Derek sighed, “Well, no actually, not really. Your dad always talked about how happy you used to be, and now whenever I see you you look so sad.”

“I dunno what that really has to do with it,” Stiles said, “Baking used to make me happy but now... now it’s different, I’m different.”

Derek sighed, “Okay, I’m not gonna push it.”

“Thanks,” Stiles said after a minute, giving Derek a small smile. Derek grinned back at him.

Their faces were so close, both of them lying side by side on the hood of Derek’s car. God, Stiles could feel every point of contact between them, their arms pressed together, the knock of Derek’s knee against his, and the brush of their calves when one of them shuffled for comfort. He could count Dereks’ eyelashes if he wanted, they were so close. Well he probably couldn’t, but then people had a lot of eyelashes, and that would be a pretty boring way to spend the evening.

He could feel Derek’s breath hot, across his mouth, and Stiles’ tongue darted out and ran over his lips. He would just have to lean forward, ever so slightly-

They were rudely jerked back to reality by the crackle of the Police car scanner. Derek visably jerked, sitting up abruptly as a tinny voice came over the scanner.

“Officer Hale, Officer Hale, we’ve got a 311 in process down on on the corner of Green Vale and Erdman Drive, over.”

Stiles frowned, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head, “Well, I suppose I best get going, I mean, I’m probably gonna fall asleep if I stay out here much longer.”

“Yah, I don’t think I can drive away with you sitting on the hood of my car,” Derek smirked. Stiles rolled his eyes and hopped off, stepping over to the side.

“It was nice, uh, thanks for the carrot sticks.”

“You’re welcome Stilinski,” Derek said, pulling open the door to the curiser and slipping inside. He wound down the window, “I’ll see you round, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said with a smile. “That’d be good.”

He watched as Derek drove away, before he picked up his bag of groceries from the ground and  headed back to his car. He yanked open the front door and slipped into the Jeep, catching a breif glimpse of himself in the mirror and schooling the smile on his face. He needed to get a hold of himself; the last time he'd fallen for someone so quickly it had been Lydia and no one wanted a repeat performance of that.

 

~

 

"So," Scott said. "What's eating you?"

Stiles raised an eyebrow, "What d'ya mean? Nothing's eating me, I mean except Jackson-"

"Urgh gross dude," Scott laughed, "Stop with the details."

"Are you kidding? I'm pretty sure you gave me a step-by-step instructions on how you eat out Allison," Stiles snarks back.

"You asked me for instructions!" Scott said incredulously. "You wanted help for Lydia."

"Still, the point stands, I really didn't need to hear a graphic rendition of how she sounds when she moans," said Stiles, just as the waitress arrived with their food. She eyed Stiles disapprovingly, and Stiles shrunk back in his seat.

"Who's having the hash-browns?

"Uh that'd be me," Stiles said meekly. She put down the plates and left without another word, and only one disapproving glare.  Stiles shrugged and turned to his plate, shoveling a forkful into his mouth.

Scott frowned at him as he took a drink of coffee.

"What?"

"Black coffee?"

"It's a work in progress. I'm trying to drink it till I like it," Stiles said, hiding his grimace. "Like what we used to do with tequila."

"All that succeeded in was making us hate limes," Scott said. "Like I literally cannot smell a lime without wanting to hurl anymore; a fact I completely blame you for by the way.”

"When would you really eat limes anyway?" Stiles reasoned with a smirk.

Scott rolled his eyes, "Whatever dude. Anyway, it's been too long since we've done this, have you got a date for my wedding or are you going stag?"

"You mean alone?"

"Stag. There's a difference," Scott said. "Sort of."

"I dunno yet, I mean... I might ask Jackson-"

"You're not asking Jackson," Scott said immediately. "You don't like him."

"Hey!" Stiles yelled indignantly, "You don't get veto power on who I date."

Scott raised his eyebrows, "You're right, I don't, but you're not exactly dating him now, are you?"

Stiles fought back the blush rising on his cheeks, "I''m thirty years old, Scott, if I want to have no strings attached sex then it's allowed, alright?"

Scott raised his hands and leant back in his chair, "I never said you couldn't, okay? Take a deep breath okay? Now what I did say is that you can't bring Jackson to my wedding because you two are just gonna end up fighting during the ceremony and or having sex in a closet while you curse each other off."

Stiles opened his mouth to argue but ended up sighing and leaning back, tilting the chair back on two legs. "Urgh, no then." Stiles yawned.

"You seem pretty tired," Scott observed after another moment as Stiles flailed and grabbed at the table to stop himself tipping back completely, the chair slamming back down onto the ground. Scott ignored Stiles’ near miss and continued eating his breakfast.

"Yeah well, I was up all night, maybe got two hours sleep before I met you for breakfast," Stiles said, stifling another yawn.

"Oh, right, so have you checked your email yet today?"

Stiles frowned, "Huh?"

"Oh, uh Isaac sent out an email regarding the bachelor party," Scott said, rubbing the back of his neck, "Did he talk to you about it?"

"I've been kinda AFK the last few days, computer issues," Stiles said, "What, did they come to an agreement without me?"

He said it with a laugh, but Scott looked sheepish, refusing to meet his gaze.

"What?! You're serious?!" Stiles said, blinking, "I'm the best man!"

"I think he must've thought since you didn't say anything you were alright with the plans," Scott said, "If you've got problem with the plans I can call Isaac, we can arrange something else..."

Stiles head slumped down, chin resting atop his arms as he looked up at Scott. "Uh go on, where are we going?"

"Vegas?" Scott said, wincing in sympathy.

"Vegas?" Stiles squeaked. He looked up at Scott who instantly deflated, god, Scott wanted to go to Vegas. "I mean, uh, Vegas, that's fine! It'll be great fun, maybe a little clichéd, but so long as we don't loose you and end up re-enacting the Hangover It'll be fine."

"Stiles," Scott said with a sigh, "You hate flying."

"I'll suffer through it," Stiles said.

Scott beamed at him, Stiles ducked his head with a laugh before he reached over to shove Scott in the shoulder, "Stop that dude, your smile could fuckin' cure cancer."

Scott rolled his eyes, “Anyway, let’s go back to whatever the hell you were up to last night.”

"Well-" Stiles started. Scott shot him with a level glare. And Stiles sighed, "Jackson."

There was a  pause, before Scott waved his hand for Stiles to continue, “That usually takes what… two hours out your schedule? What else?”

"I may have ended up talking to Officer Hale," Stiles mumbled quietly.

"Hale, as in the dude who pulled you over after the engagement party?"

"That’d be the one," Stiles said, concentrating firmly on trying to cram as much of his breakfast as he could onto one forkful. 

"How’d that end up happening?" 

Stiles shrugged, shoving the fork into his mouth. Scott shot him a reproachful look.

" ‘Hut?!" Stiles mumbled around the mouthful of food, shrugging his shoulders again and waving his arms around. 

Scott tilted his head and sighed, “Really, Stiles?”

Stiles swallowed, “Fine, I was in that twenty-four hour garage on fourth and I think that he must’ve been on the night patrol ‘cause he was in stocking up on carrot sticks and we ended up talking for a few hours until he had to go and do some work.”

Scott laughed, “It sounds like you like him dude.”

"Urgh, what are you, thirteen?"

"Avoidance," Scott sing-songed. "Why don’t you ask Officer Hale to my wedding?"

"Urgh, you’re insufferable," Stiles said, rolling his eyes.

"Would you call him ‘Officer’ in bed?" Scott pondered, smirking.

Stiles threw some of his hash-brows at Scott’s face, because Stiles did not have a kink for cops, okay? That would be gross considering his dad was the fuckin’ Sheriff.

The hash brows missed, but Scott laughed so hard at Stiles’ expression that he fell off his chair. 

 

~

 

The trip to Vegas rushed up before Stiles even really had time to breathe.

To be honest, Stiles was slightly pissed with the other guys for insisting they go to Vegas. Like, he knew it was Scott's wedding, and he only got one bachelor party, but Stiles was broke and fuckin' terrified of flying.

Not to mention he was left all by himself in coach. Really he didn't know what the rest of them had expected to happen, especially after plying him with sleeping pills and alcohol to knock him out.

So yeah, he might have got them all kicked off of the plane, got himself put on the no-fly list, and all of their asses put back on a bus to Beacon Hills, but he stood by the belief that if he hadn't got them all kicked off then Finstock's constant flirting with the Air Marshall would have.

Stiles lay his head back on the seat, he was so uncomfortable, god he hated coach journeys, he’d had enough of them in highschool on school trips, once you’d had someone projectile vomit onto you once you were never the same.

He glanced over as Scott came and sat down in the empty seat next to him. “Hey  Scott,” he said weakly.

“Hey buddy,” Scott said softly, giving him a vauge smile, patting his knee. “How you feeling? We’re worried about you.”

Stiles scoffed, “Yeah, right, I’m sure that’s exactly what everyone else is thinking, after I got them all kicked off of the plane. Scott you don’t have to lie to make me feel better. I think I’m kinda cohearant again, the pills are wearing off.”

Scott sighed, shoulders slumping, “I’m really worried about you, Stiles.”

“Well don’t be, I’m just fine, y’know,” Stiles bit back.

“Stiles you almost were arrested.”

“What’s your point? I was drunk.”

Scott exhaled, droping Stiles gaze and staring up at the ceiling, “Look man, I’m not saying you have to or anything like that it’s just... I’m really worried about you, and the stress that this wedding’s put you under, I know that you’ve been going through a lot of stuff in your life right now, and...”

“Go on,” Stiles said through gritted teeth.

“I don’t know if it was right for me to ask you to be my best man, I don’t want to be causing you all this much stress, espicially when you’ve been through so much lately.”

Stiles swallowed, and blinked, this throat thick, and christ, he was an adult, he wasn’t gonna cry on a bus because Scott was worried about him. “Oh,” he finally managed.

“Look, if you still want to do it, that’s absoultly fine, it’s just Isaac has had a lot of experience in this kinda stuff, I just feel like it might take the pressure off of you.”

Scott was desperatly trying to meet his eyes, but Stiles just turned his head and staired out the window, jaw clenching, “Scott, that’s fine, honestly, I mean, I get it.”

“Stiles, are you okay? I’m worried about you.”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Stiles laughed. “I’m fine, I think I’m just gonna go back to sleep, okay?”

Scott huffed out a breath, “You sure man?”

“Yeah,” Stiles assured him, “could you just leave me alone? I can’t really sleep with you fidgiting next to me.”

That was a bold lie. Stiles knew it and Scott knew it, but Scott just patted him on the shoulder, got up from his seat and went back to sit with Isaac.

It was a fair enough request, Stiles told himself, considering the monumental screw up that Stiles had made of his wedding preparation so far. Maybe Isaac would do a better job, with his posh connections, and his experience and his fucking country club membership.

 

~

 

Stiles knew what he looked like, and it wasn't good.

He'd been up half the night, unable to wind down, mind wandering, tearing over details and the trip home after the Vegas catastrophe, obsessing over Scott's voice when he told him that he was worried about him. Ha! Worried about him? Stiles was fine. Capital F Fine.

Except for the part where he hadn't slept enough.

He was slumped over his counter in the jewellery store, trying to keep his eyes open when he was interrupted by a cough. Stiles looked up and put on his brightest smile. He was sure it looked terrifying if the man’s expression on the other side of the desk was anything to go by.

"Hi there, can I help you?"

The man was maybe in his late twenties, just slightly younger than Stiles himself.

"Uh yeah, I'm looking for an engagement ring."

"Oh you're getting married then!?" Stiles said, faking happiness and enthusiasm. He felt like his cheeks were gonna hurt from the smile he kept pinned to his face, and he was sure that the grin didn’t reach his eyes.

The man laughed nervously, "Well I've not asked her yet, the only one who knows is my buddy, Jerome."

"Oh," Stiles said. "Jerome, will he be your best man then?"

"Yeah," the man said, smiling, "He's my best friend."

"Well don't expect that to last," Stiles said carelessly, laughing away to himself.

The man frowned, "Excuse me?"

"I'm just saying," Stiles said hurriedly, "Weddings are stressful as fuck, and you never know, you might meet a new best friend, and then you’ll ditch Jerome pretty damn fast."

"I don't think I remember asking your opinion," the man said stiffly. "I'm gonna go."

 Stiles muttered a curse, "No look dude, sorry, I didn't mean-"

But it was too late, the man was out the shop without a backwards glance. Stiles sighed, and rubbed his head as he spun around and almost crashed into his boss. "Oh fuck," he muttered.

"Stiles! You haven’t made a single sale this month," he said. "You literally just made someone run away from the store."

"I know," Stiles said, frustrated more with himself, "I, uh, I'm sorry it's just-"

"Stiles," Mr Hamilton sighed. "Can we speak in my office?"

And that was how Stiles got fired.

 

~

 

Stiles wasn't sure if he was trying to ruin his life or not, but he figured hijacking some of his dad's police information so that he could find out where Officer Hale was patrolling and go pay him a visit at the end of his shift definitely wasn't a positive decision.

He pulled up beside the police cruiser and rolled down his window, clearing his throat. Officer hale blinked and looked up at him, "Stiles?"

"I was wondering, do you wanna go grab a drink?"

 

~

 

He swore blind that he just wanted to talk to someone. By go grab a drink he had meant, grab a drink and that was all.

But one drink turned to three, which turned to Stiles groping Officer Hale’s- Derek’s, groping Derek’s ass, in the cab on the way back from the bar, then watching as Derek fumbled with his keys, trying to unlock his front door with shaking fingers. Stiles leant back against the wall with an easy smirk, arms crossed over his chest, and for once he felt like the one in control, Derek was nervous, Derek was the one stuttering out an invitation for a cup of coffee and blushing profusely as he pushed open the door.

Stiles hadn't felt in control for a long time.

The alcohol was a pleasant buzz through his veins, blurring the world just enough to make it not seem so scary but no more, so he reached over and put his hand over Derek's, turning the key slowly in the lock. Derek blinked at him, so Stiles leant forward and pressed their lips together.

It was a tender kiss, more than anything, but then Stiles was pulling Derek closer, pushing him backwards against the door and hips grinding together desperatly seeking the friction. Stiles kicked open the front door and stepped them back into the house. Derek reached behind him to close the door before he grabbed Stiles by the hips, thumbs stroking the exposed skin.

“Oh wait, shit,” Derek mumbled against Stiles mouth.

Stiles kissed Derek’s lips once more, before sucking the bottom one between his teeth and lightly pulling away. “What?” he grinned as Derek let out a groan.

“The key’s are still in the lock,” Derek mumbled.

Stiles laughed as they broke apart and Derek yanked open the front door and tugged his keys out of the lock, before tossing them into a dish beside the door and stepping forward to capture Stiles with another kiss.

Stiles felt his back hit against a wall as they scrambled into the apartment. Derek's head went down to Stiles’ neck, mouthing at his coller bone and sucking down hard. Stiles groaned, head thmping back against the wall. His eyes flickered open, and he pushed Derek slightly back by his shoulder.

"Dude, we gotta get somewhere soft."

Derek nodded with heavily lidded eyes, before he grabbed Stiles by the hand and led him through the dark house towards (what Stiles assumed) was the bedroom. Derek hesitantly flicked on a light and looked back to Stiles, still holding his hand, "You sure about this?"

Stiles stepped forward, so that they were chest to chest, and firmly pressed his lips against Derek's, wrapping one hand around his waist and running the other up to nestle in his hair. He smirked, pressing their foreheads together, "Hell yeah dude."

Derek smirked, as he stepped forward and pushed Stiles backwards onto the bed, following after him, one thigh pressed hard between Stiles legs, as he ground down into Stiles hip. Stiles could feel the hard line of Derek’s erection pressed against him and he shuddered, lifting his hips up to grind down.

They kissed again, Stiles’ tongue darting out to run over Derek's lips. Derek groaned before he kissed a line along Stiles' jaw towards and then dragged his bottom lip up the edge of his ear; Stiles wimpered.

"Oh fuck, this is happening. I'm so glad this is happening," Stiles garbled as Derek pulled back and fixed him with a grin.

Stiles grabbed him by the shoulders, wrapped one leg around Derek’s hip and twisted them to get on top before he leant down to kiss Derek again. Derek's hand trailed down Stiles' side, gripping firmly onto his hips.

"So," Stiles gasped, pulling his head away. Derek blinked at him.

"So?"

"Do you wanna do this?" Stiles gasped as Derek's jerked up towards him. Stiles needed to get off his jeans soon, they were just too damn tight, the pressure on his cock was almost unbearable.

"Ah," Derek grunted out, before leaning forward and pressing a kiss against Stiles lips again, one hand trailing down to grip Stiles’ ass.

"No, no," Stiles laughed, pulling away again. "Communication dude, it's fuckin' key, so do you want to do this?"

"Yeah," Derek said, "Oh god yes."

"How then?" Stiles murmured against Derek's lips. "What do you wanna do?"

The room was dark but Stiles could make out the blush rising across Derek's cheeks, Stiles rolled his eyes, "C'mon dude you gotta keep talking. You want me to talk more? Like if I talk about really filthy things will that help break the ice?"

"Sorry," Derek mumbled, "It's been a while since I've done this..."

"No problemo," Stiles said, popping the p sound. "God I want this, you're so adorable when you're all embarrassed, I'm kinda wondering if that blush goes all the way down to your chest, can we lose the clothes? I really wanna see your dick."

Derek blinked at him before he sat up in the bed, Stiles still straddling his hips and he reached down to yank off his shirt. Stiles grinned and followed suit before laying a hand on Derek’s abs.

“You okay there?” Derek smirked.

“I’m having a moment, shush,” Stiles said as Derek leant back against the bed, muscles rippling as he moved. God, how was someone even allowed to look like that?

He leant down, tongue poking out before it flicked over Derek’s nipple. Derek hissed in responce, grip on Stiles hips tightening.

“You like that?” Stiles laughed.

“Urgh, just shut up,” Derek mumbled.

Stiles laughed again before he lent down and dragged his teeth over Derek’s, now rather hard, nipple. Derek hissed out a breath from between his teeth, “Fuck.”

Stiles grinned, before moving his head over to pay attention his his other nipple, twisting it lightly between his teeeth. Derek gasped loudly, hips jerking upwards.

“You’re sensitive,” Stiles laughed, before moving further down and kissing a line across Derek’s abs. Derek was blushing beetroot, breathing rapid and shallow, and god, Stiles could do this forever, he was so responsive, writhing and gasping away underneth him.

Stiles ran his hand down and lay it on the button of Derek's jeans. He looked upmet Derek's eyes and Derek swallowed, before nodding. "Oh thank god," Stiles said, using both hands to unbutton Derek's pants and then watching as Derek lifted his hips up and started to shimmy out of them. "Oh lord, oh god," Stiles babbled.

Derek rolled his eyes, seeming slightly more at ease now, "Can you stop with the blasphemy? It's slightly distracting."

"Dude I can't help it, if you wanted me to stop with the profanities you should stop... looking like that!" Stiles gestured to Derek's torso.

Stiles gaze flickered down to Derek's underwear, the hard outline of his cock, the small wet stain at the tip, and fuck. Stiles swallowed and looked back up at Derek's eyes, smiling at him. They paused for a moment, then Derek leaned forward to knot one hand in Stiles hair as he (unsuccessfully) tried to push Stiles' pants down.

Stiles laughed, and rolled over onto his side, undoing his zipper and shuffling out of his jeans as quickly as he could, kicking them off of the bed. Derek snorted at him, and Stiles just rolled his eyes and grinned back, “Oh c’mon, like you were much more co-ordinated.”

“I never said a word,” Derek said, innocently batting his eyes. Stiles snorted, before he leaned forward and pulled Derek’s face towards his.

Derek slung a leg up over Stiles hip, his warm, broad palm trailing up Stiles’ spine to pull them closer. They were chest to chest, skin to skin, and Stiles could feel Derek’s cock pressing aganst his own threw their boxer shorts, and fuck if he didn’t want that immediatlly.

Stiles trailed his hand down to Derek’s waist, ducking under the tight band of his underwear before it fisted aruond his cock.

God that was nice.

He never really got a chance to savour with Jackson, so he was definetly gonna make up for it with Derek. He pushed Derek onto his back, ignoring the small gasp as Stiles pushed down his boxer shorts and wrapped his hand firmly around his dick. God that was a pretty dick, Stiles didn’t even really know what he wanted to do with it, he just knew that this night was gonna go way to fast, but then he looked up at Derek’s face, his eyes shut and mouth open, gasping Stiles name softly, and Stiles knew that he probably would never be able to get enough of that.

Stiles shuffled down the bed, settling himself inbetween Derek’s thighs, and he smirked at the surprised look on Derek’s face. Derek’s cock was thick and hard, curled up against his stomach, so Stiles grasped it by the base, angling it slightly away from his body, before he stuck his tongue out and licked the head. Derek shifted slightly benieth him, letting out a small wimper as his hands tightened in the sheets.

Stiles could get used to that sound.

He did it again, before wrapping his mouth entirely around the head of Derek’s cock, and lowering himself down. Derek’s made a wounded sound, like he’d been shot, and Stiles glanced up to see his eyes scrnched tightly, jaw clenched.

Blow jobs were actually pretty hard to co-ordinate, but if there was one thig Jackson loved, it was getting head so Stiles was fairly well practiced. He was careful to keep his teeth away, bobbing his head up and down lightly while sucking.

He pulled back and ran his tongue around the head of Derek’s cock, before working sloppy, open mouth kisses and down the shaft. He grinned as Derek’s hips jerked up, before he pulled away and looked up to meet Derek’s gaze and ran a tongue over his lips.

“Having fun?” Stiles said.

Derek’s eyes widened incrediously as if he couldn’t believe Stiles would even jokingly   ask that. Stiles laughed, and wiggled his way back up Derek’s body, before pressing a kiss on his nose.

"Dude, how are we doing this?" Stiles gasped, breaking away. "Like, top or bottom?"

Derek blinked at him, and dropped his gaze, "God, uh, bottom, I mean... if  you haven’t got a preference? If you do it’s fine, I mean most people sort of assume-"

Stiles chuckled slightly and pulled back to press a chaste kiss against Derek’s mouth. "Dude, I've no preference, what so ever; I'm up for however you want it. Uh, do you want to prep yourself up though, or..." Stiles lifted a hand and wiggled his fingers, grinning.

Derek's eyes went wide, his pupils blown out to the point where Stiles could barely see the green of his iris. "Uh, you," Derek grunted. "Definetly you, it's... It's been a while but I... y'know fairly regularly."

Stiles leered at him, "Sorry you'll have to be more specific, I'm not following you."

Derek reached up and smacked him around the back of the head. "Don't be a smartass."

"Alright then," Stiles said, rubbing his hands together, and waggling his eyebrows, “Flip onto your front and where the hell's the lube?"

Derek chucked slightly before he obliged, rolling over onto his stomach and shifting a pillow down under his waist. Stiles eyes flicked down towards his waist and yeah, he could work with that.

"You're staring," Derek said, dryly, quirking an eyebrow.

"Well, duh," Stiles said, reaching down around Derek’s waist to stroke Derek's cock, liquifying Derek's cool, sarcastic resolve.

"Fuckin' hell, hurry up and touch me,” Derek said with a groan.

"Impatient, aren't you?" Stiles smirked, before leaning back on his heels and staring down at Derek, his legs spread around him, and god what an ass he he had. Surely it was illegal to have an ass like that? Stiles wanted to snapchat it to Scott, he didn’t even really care that Scott wouldn’t appreciate it. Heck Stiles wanted to snapchat that ass to everyone he knew.

He ran his hands up the back of Derek’s thighs, through the course hair. and leant forward and pressed himself against Derek’s back, his dick pressing into the crease of Derek’s ass as he pressed kisses against Derek’s shoulders. He trailed the kisses over the tattoo and back down the nobs of Derek’s spine before he sat back and smiled at the wimper Derek gave at the loss of contact.

"Stop teasing," Derek gritted out.

Stiles rolled his eyes and pulled back, "Fine, spoilt sport."

Derek looked over and scowled at him but Stiles could tell he was fighting a smirk at the same time. Stiles grinned, tracking a finger tip down Derek’s crack lightly, teasing over the rim, and Derek’s spine stiffened. Stiles would do this all day, if he could, spend his time drawing every little moan and mapping every part of his body.

“Where’s the lube?” Stiles asked playfully, still traceing his finger over Derek’s hole.

"Bedside table, top drawer," Derek informed him, before coughing to clear his throat. Stiles leaned over and rolled off the bed, hopping out of his boxers in the process and pulling open the top drawer. It was obviously the 'sex' drawer, with a packet of condoms, a couple of lube as well as a fairly large dildo. Stiles fought away his blush as he grabbed the sex equipment.

Derek buried his head in the pillow snickering, causing Stiles to turn, "Dude you're not laughing at me naked are you? 'Cause if so-"

Derek's head jerked up, and he fixed Stiles' with an exasperated glare, "Stiles, you called it 'sex equipment.'"

"Oh," Stiles blushed, he hadn’t realised he’s been talking out loud. He crawled back onto the bed, kneeling between Derek's spread legs as he lubed up his fingers. Derek quickly dropped his face into the pillow once more, keeping his ass firmly in the air and god, Stiles wanted to get a tongue in that ass, but that was an adventure for another day; if Stiles went down there on a dude he did it right, unhurried and usually after already coming himself so he wasn't distracted.

"You sure?" Stiles asked, slight teasing tone to his voice as he ran a finger delicately around Derek's rim.

"Stiles if you as me if I'm sure one more time, I'm gonn--ooh," Derek gasped, like the sound had been punched out of him as Stiles pressed the tip of his middle finger through the ring of muscle.

"Yeah?" Stiles said, pressing forward until he could feel the swollen lump of Derek's prostate. He ran his finger over it and Derek gasped loudly. "What was that you were saying?"

"Stiles,” Derek groaned, hands twisting in the sheets as Stiles gently thrusted his finger in and out. Stiles reached down his left hand to give himself an uncoordinated tug as he pulled his finger out from Derek's ass and rearranged it to push two fingers in. Derek opened up easily underneath him; he must've been using a toy fairly regularly. Stiles scissored his fingers, brushing Derek's prostate again in the process causing him to let out another groan, back arching as he grappled at the sheets. Oh fuck. 

"I- I'm ready," Derek stuttered out.

Stiles rubbed his fingers over Derek's prostate again, and wiggled his eyebrows. "You sure about that?"

"Yeah, I'm good, like I said earlier," Derek shuddered, "Toys."

Stiles swallowed, as the immage of Derek stretched out on his bed by himself, opening himself up assaulted him, he clenched Derek’s hip andgrit his teeth as his cock twitched in interest. God that image would stay with him a long time. Derek glanced at him over one shoulder impatiently, shaking Stiles out his reprieve. Stiles reached down, grabbing the condom from the bed where he'd dropped it earlier, before pinching the tip and rolling it over his cock, greatful for the slight contact to relieve the ache. He grabbed the bottle of lube to slick himself up.

Stiles pressed against Derek's entrance and spread himself over Derek's back, "Are you double sure you're ready?" Stiles smirked into his ear.

"Yes, for the love of god put your dick in me," Derek gaasped. 

"What, like this?" Stiles asked, using one hand to guide himself as he rolled his hips forward, slow and steady, until the head of his cock breached the tight ring of muscle.

Derek stilled, before letting out a gasp. Stiles stroked the skin of Derek's hip tenderly, "Yo, you okay there?" he asked gently, running his hands up and down Derek's sides.

Derek gasped, "Yeah, I'm good, you can... you can move.’’

Stiles screwed his eyes shut as he rolled his hips forward, pressing them slowly into Derek's tight opening. Derek clawed at the sheets, fighting for a grip as his back arched.

"Oh fuck," Derek groaned, "Fucking fuck.”

"Language," Stiles taunted, but really he was thinking much the same. God Derek was so tight, and hot and damn... well... perfect. Stiles groaned, before pulling his hips back and he slammed back into Derek, eliciting another string of curses.

"You... you good?" Stiles gasped.

"Oh fuck, Stiles," Derek moaned as Stiles started to thrust in earnest now. Fuck, he couldn't believe this was his life; that he had Derek writing underneath him, moaning out his name as he thrusted in again and again and again.

Derek let out another loud stuttering moan, and Stiles leant back down, pressing kisses into along his shoulders, pausing to suck a bright hicky into the side of his neck.

Derek reached down and started to jack himself off with difficulty considering most of his torso was smushed forward into the mattress.

"Fucking hell Derek," Stiles grunted as his hips rolled forward again. He was well aware that Derek was struggling to get off with the angle he was at, so Stiles wrapped one of his arms around Derek's chest and pulled him up as he sat back on his heels, keening at the sensation of Derek moving around him. Derek let out a low groan, before he put his one hand forward on the headboard to support himself. Stiles thrusted his hips up into Derek, and fuck if that sensation wasn’t one of the best things Stiles had ever felt.

He could hear Derek gasp, as he picked up the speed, before letting out a moan, and he clenched tight around him. Stiles buried his face in his neck, biting down hard before he ran a tongue along the teethmarks. "Oh, ohhh,” Derek groaned.

Stiles splayed one hand out on Derek’s chest and moved his other one down and over Derek’s hand where he was jerking himself. His thrusts turned erratic as pleasure coursed through him, "Oh fuck, Derek, oh fuck, I'm close."

"Harder," Derek gritted out, hand tightening on the wooden headboard almost painfully. "Fuckin’ harder, Stiles."

Stiles couldn't even come up with a witty retort, he just buried his face in Derek's neck as he thrusted his hips up, grip tightening around Derek He was sweating, it was dripping off of him, and  as he gave one final thrust up and came hard. He gasped, vision whiting around the edges as he felt Derek clench around him and still, back arching and his head thrown back against Stiles shoulder, calling out Stiles name with a guttural moan.

Stiles was barely coherent as they sunk down onto the bed together, gasping for breath. After a moment Derek gingerly pulled off of Stiles softening cock, before he rolled onto his back and threw an arm over Stiles shoulders.

"Fuck," Stiles gasped, throwing the sheets off to try and cool down as he shifted onto his back and lifted up his head to rest it on Derek’s arm.

Derek wrinkled his nose, "There's come everywhere."

Stiles raised an eyebrow, "Are you serious right now?"

"We have to sleep here, don't we?"

"Dude, it's your come," Stiles said, stifling a yawn before he reached down and grasped the condom by the base and tugged it off. He tied it in a knot and launched it across the room into the trash, "See? Mine's all contained in that nice and neat little bag."

"Stiles; half of it slid out when you tried to talk the condom off while lying on your back," Derek deadpanned, gesturing to the pool of come on Stiles crotch. Derek sighed and reached over to his bedside table and grabbed the box of tissues and dropped it on Stiles chest. Stiles sighed and grabbed some tissues out before leaning down to clean himself up.

"Christ," Stiles said glancing over to Derek. "How long has it been since you jacked off?"

Derek was sitting up trying to clean come off of his chest where it had started to dry into the hair. He looked over at Stiles and wrinkled his brow, "What?"

"I mean, that's a lot of come dude, it's like you haven’t... cleared the pipes in a while."

"You've got no filter, do you?" Derek frowned.

"Nope," Stiles said, popping the p, as he tossed the tissues off the bed and yawned, yanking the sheets up over his hips.

Derek rolled his eyes, but he was blushing slightly, "Uh, can you do me a favour before you crash?"

Stiles eyes blinked open , "Yeah?"

"Uh I'm... leaking? Like not too bad 'cause of the condom but there was still a lot of lube-"

"Oh shit, right," Stiles said automatically sitting up, "You want a towel or something?"

Derek was blushing pretty profusely as he nodded. Stiles rolled his eyes before he slid his legs out of bed and got to his feet. He reached scanned the room and pin-pointed his boxers lying on the floor by Derek's side of the bed. He hoped around and pulled them, turning to look at Derek who had rolled over onto his front. Stiles let his eyes roll down Derek strong back muscles, twisting and following the lines of ink spread between his shoulder blades before his gaze went down-

"Stiles," Derek said exasperatedly. "Towels are in the the bathroom. Down the hall"

Right," Stiles swallowed. "Okay. On it. God that would've been a better idea to organise towels before-"

"Stiles, we can talk after," Derek said dryly. "Towel, now please."

"Right," Stiles said, grinning as he fake saluted before diving out into the hallway before realising he had no idea where the bathroom was. Down the hall, well that wasn't exactly specific. He pushed open the door next to Derek's bedroom to reveal a messy, dark office. That wasn't it. The next door was the boiler cupboard, but then apparently third time was the charm because the last door on the hall was Derek's bathroom. He grabbed a towel off the handrail before dashing back down the hall to Derek's room, Derek was still lying down on his front, arms propped under his chin. Stiles launched the towel at him before he switched off the light and dived over Derek into bed, tugging up the sheet. Derek had rolled over onto his back, now, towel spread out underneath his waist to try and save the sheets or at least stop him from having to sleep on the wet patch.

He knew he shouldn't stay, that was like number one protocol for one night stands, but Derek was wrapping his arms around Stiles, tugging blankets up around them as he tossed a leg over Stiles thigh, and he really couldn’t bring himself to care overly about protocol.

Stiles nestled closer into Derek. He'd leave in the morning, one night of cuddling wouldn't do them any harm.

 

~

 

The first time Stiles had woken up in someone else's bed he had punched them in the face; it hadn't been the best way to wake up, and, needless to say, his companion had been less than pleased at the resultant bloodstains on their sheets.

 This time, he woke up alone in Derek's bed. He sat up stretching and trying to figure out where the hell he was and jumped when he realised Derek sitting on the edge of the comforter.

"Oh shit!" Stiles exclaimed, jumping up. Derek raised an eyebrow as Stiles put a hand to his chest trying to calm his racing heart, "Sorry, you surprised me there."

"I've been trying to wake you up for five minutes," Derek replied, eyes flickering to the clock on the bedside table. "It's 11 o'clock."

"Uh well," Stiles rubbed the back of his head. "We had sex. It really takes it out of me."

Stiles blushed furiously as the realisation of what he had said hit him. He was naked, he was fuckin' naked and Derek was sitting on the end of the bed with sunlight streaming in through the window behind him and giving him this weirdly adorable smile.

Derek cleared his throat and got to his feet, he was wearing these checkered pyjama pants low on his hips and there was a thin stretch of skin where his white undershirt was hiked up on his hips. Stiles swallowed, it wasn't fair that someone looked so hot first thing in the morning.

"I'm gonna head and put on some coffee if you wanna get dressed," Derek offered. Stiles nodded, and watched as Derek got up and exited the room.

Stiles swung his legs out of the bed, frowning at the chaos of Derek's room. The bottle of lube and a couple condoms were still strewn across the bedside table and dirty clothes thrown over the back of a chair. Stiles was still in his boxers so he grabbed his jeans and shirt and pulled them on as quickly as he could.

Derek was already rattling around in the kitchen. Stiles was acutely aware of his hangover throbbing away in the back of his head, he needed to get out, he'd overstayed his welcome, blabbering away to Derek about his pathetic life.

Derek spun around, an easy smile on his face. "Morning, I was wondering f you had any plans or that?"

"Oh uh, probably just go... sort out my life," Stiles laughed nervously. He raised an eyebrow and gestured to the countertop full of baking equipment laid out in front of Derek, "What's this?"

"Oh well..." Derek rubbed the back of his neck, "I just... I had fun last night and I thought you might want to do something today, and you made such good cakes-"

"Oh," Stiles said flatly, 'That's... that's kind of you but I'd rather... not."

"C'mon," Derek pleaded, "You're really talented, I loved your cakes-"

"Derek," Stiles said, warning tone to his voice.

Derek sighed, shoulders slumped, "Okay, it was a bit of a surprise, yeah, uh how about we..."

"I uh, I'm gonna get moving then," Stiles said, grabbing his coat as he started moving toward the door.

"Wh... What? Stiles, have I done something-"

"No it's just... We don't know each other Derek, so let’s stop acting like it. Last night was fun and I'll see you around, alright?"

Stiles turned and left as quickly as he could, choosing not to dwell on the confused, sad look on Derek's face as he did so.

 

~

 

Stiles had to walk the two miles back to the bar where he'd left his car. It had started raining on him. He chose not to view that as karmic retribution for walking out on Derek when he'd tried to be nice.

Whatever, he didn't need Derek feeling obligated to make pancakes with him just because they had good sex. He didn't need anyone's obligations to him, he was a grown up, he could look after himself.

He phoned Scott on the way home to apologise, putting on a chirpy tone.

"Hey it's Scott," The familiar voice of Scott's answer phone informed him. "Leave a message after the beep and I'll get back to you."

BEEP.

”Yo! Scotty Boy! It's Stiles," he added in hesitantly, as if in the two days they'd not spoken Scott could've forgotten what he sounded like. "I hope you're not mad at me still... I mean, I'd understand if you were, I really fucked up," Stiles winced, "If you were here you'd be laughing at me now man, like seriously, I always manage to wreck things, like your bachelor party and now-"

No this was coming out sad, Stiles didn't want it to come out sad. He cleared his throat and tried again.

 "Nah I mean, I had sex with Officer HAle and he got so weird afterwards, he wanted to spoon me and make pancakes in the morning. I felt like a boyfriend. Do you think we're boyfriends? No. We're not. It's just sex, isn't it? I don't get what was happening, I just got the hell out of there."

Fuck, that made Stiles come off like an asshole. "Nah I mean like, I don't need anyone's pity? I don't need someone to take care of me just cause I've had such a shit record of looking after myself. I'm a grown up, y'know?"

The silence of Scott's answer machine was his only answer.

"Anyway, gimme a message when you get this," Stiles said sharply before hanging up. He threw his phone into the backseat, turning around just in time to see racoon crossing the road.

"Shit!" he cursed slamming on his breaks. The jeep shuddered to a halt, and Stiles flew forward, seatbelt catching him before he slammed into the steering wheel. He sat back with a relieved sigh as the Racoon scurried away when the car behind him went crashing into the back of his Jeep, sending Stiles flying, hitting his head off of the wheel. .

"Oh fuck!" Stiles exclaimed, rubbing his forehead. He looked up just in time to see the car who had hit him driving away. "Oh great, that's real fuckin' classy."

Stiles slumped back in the seat, before he tried to turn on his Jeep. It didn't work.

That was just genius.

 

~

 

Stiles phoned Jackson.

The problem was, other than Scott, Stiles wasn't exactly rolling in friends. Scott wasn't answering his phone, his roommates were dicks and he wasn't exactly gonna tell his dad that he still hadn't fixed his taillights.

His Jeep wouldn't turn on at all, Stiles had no idea why it wouldn't but he couldn't even get the radio to turn on. He'd been drumming his gfingers absently when Officer Hale had turned up and ordered him a tow truck with a pathetic sigh.

"I told you to fix your tail-lights," Derek said, note pad out as he wrote down cop-ey things.

"I know it's just-"

"No, would you just stop, I don't know what your deal is, and I don't know why you ran out this morning like you were on fire and I don't care," Derek snapped.

"But-"

"I don't care."

"Derek-"

"I. Don't. Care. I told you to get them fixed! I told you weeks ago and you promised," Derek snarled. Stiles drew back, "You just don't seem to get that your actions have fuckin' consequences, Stiles!"

"I'm sorry, okay?" Stiles snapped, "I just... I dunno what's going on with my life right now between Isaac and Scott-"

"Oh don't even!" Derek snapped. "I'm done, okay Stiles? I'm fuckin' done with you."

Derek turned on his heel and headed back to his car

"Derek!" Stiles yelled, but Derek didn't turn around. Stiles froze as he spotted a Porsche coming zooming towards him. God, no, please no.

The Porsche drew to a halt and Jackson rolled down his window, leaning out with a smirk. "They there fuck-buddy, you need a ride?"

Derek froze, before turning around to look at Stiles. There was a beat of silence.

"Really?"

Stiles didn't say anything. He just slid into Jackson's passenger seat and allowed him to drive him home.

They drove in silence, and then Stiles gave Jackson road head shortly after they pulled away. It took the warm of Jackson's come splattering his mouth before he realised what he was doing.

"Stop the car," Stiles said.

"What? I've already come-" Jackson frowned, eyebrows furrowing.

"Stop. The. Car."

"Stiles, C'mon, it's just a bit of fun-"

"Stop the car Jackson, or I swear to got I'm gonna open the door and roll out!" Stiles demanded, clenching his fists. Jackson frowned and pulled over. He didn't say anything as Stiles walked away.

Stiles wondered when his life had gotten to be such a mess.

 

~

 

Stiles knew he and Scott weren't really speaking, and that Isaac was organising pretty much everything to do with Scott's wedding, but it didn't really hit home for Stiles until two weeks later he found himself dressed up his best suit on the back of a horse, going to the wedding shower that Isaac had so graciously offered to host. Stiles had never seen Isaac's home before but fuck, that dude was rich. Like he'd always known Isaac was rich, but he'd never known that he was rich until he'd had to trek through the acres of his land on horseback.

"Holy crap," Stiles muttered as Isaac's home came into view.

That's right, he was literally riding in to Scott's wedding shower on horseback. He didn't have a car anymore, since the Jeep was currently parked in his fathers drive until he got the cash together to get it fixed, so had gotten a cab to Isaacs house (well, house wasn't exactly the word to use, mansion was more like it). When he'd gotten out of the cab someone had walked up to him and handed him the reins to a horse. He didn't even ask, he was sure any explanation would've made it worse.

"I don't like you," he muttered, as he patted the horses mane. The horse let out a snort as it trotted towards the house.

He dismounted - ungracefully - from the horse, and handed over the reins to one of the waiting staff Isaac had hired to take care of the horses. He stuck his tongue out at the horse as it was led away.

The sun was stiflingly hot, Stiles could feel the cool beads of sweat sticking to his skin. He sighed and tugged at his shirt collar as he tried to take in the foreboding sight of Isaacs home. He took himself a deep breath and started up the stairs towards the entrance where someone was holding the door for him.

His first thought, upon entering the main lounge where the wedding shower was taking place, was that his suit didn't cost enough money. His second thought was that neither did his shoes.

Stiles shook himself out of that thought spiral before it took hold, and held his head up high as he hunted the buffet table. He wasn't quite ready to try and talk to Scott, not yet.

He was stuffing his plate with mini sausage rolls when the announcement came that it was time to open the presents. Stiles sighed and rolled his eyes. His own present had been taken from him at the door, and he and no idea where it had gone, but he hoped it would show up.

Usually people didn't get gifts for the groom, as, even though it was a 'wedding shower', it was primarily for Allison. Everything Isaac had organised had a tasteful French theme, and fuck, Stiles was 90% sure that they'd organised puppies for party favours.

He took a seat and found himself sat next to Allison's crazy uncle Finstock.

Stiles raised his glass and gave him a small smile, "Hey there Finstock."

"Stiles! It's nice to see you," Finstock grinned. "Have you seen this place? It's fuckin' fancy."

"Yeah, a little bit," Stiles shrugged. "Isaac's done a good job."

"Yeah, he's really good at this kinda thing," Finstock shrugged. "I've already got four puppies in the back of my van."

Stiles opened his mouth to reply when someone sat down on the other side of him. He frowned and turned to find Scott grinning at him.

"Hey man," Scott said, giving him a relieved smile, "I thought you weren't gonna show."

"You kidding?" Stiles laughed, slinging an arm around his shoulder. "I wouldn't miss this."

Isaac sat down on the edge of the couch next to Scott and gave him a small smile. "Stiles, it's, uh, nice to see you."

"Yeah," Stiles said, trying to appear happy, he needed to be the bigger man, really, for Scott's benefit at least. "You too."

There was a clearing of throats and someone tapping a fork against a glass and suddenly everyone was silent and staring at Allison.

Stiles loved Allison, not like Scott did, obviously. He gave her a small smile as she got to her feet.

"Hi everyone, it's nice to see you all, thanks for coming. Uh, so me and Scott are getting married pretty soon now, so I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who's been helping with the wedding, especially Isaac, and also for the gracious use of his home for this wedding shower."

Isaac smiled and bowed his head graciously. Fucking Isaac.

"And now, if you all don't mind, I'm gonna open some presents.”

Everyone gave a polite titter as Allison pulled the first box towards her. Stiles zoned out a little, staring absently across the room, as Allison opened up the gifts of towels, sheets and kitchen appliances. It was all a bit boring really, and Stiles couldn't believe he was the only one who thought so, but then, if people always had these parties before they got married someone must enjoy them.

Obviously the people getting married did, it was another chance to show off their love to all the lonely singletons.

That wasn't fair, Stiles knew that Scott and Allison weren't showing off or trying to con gifts off of people. That made it worse though, that they were genuinely just nice people who loved each other and wanted to spend the rest of their lives together.

Why couldn't Stiles find that?

Oh yeah. He was a dick.

He was shocked out of his train of thought by Scott nudging an elbow into his ribs. He blinked to find everyone turned to him and Scott clutching his badly wrapped present, Stiles cheeks burned and he let out a laugh, "Sorry there guys, lost in my own head. Go on then, Scotty, open it!"

Scott grinned at him and tore open the wrapping paper from the box before lifting open. "Oh my god Stiles, you got like all my favourite shit!"

 Stiles smiled as Scott started to rummage through the box, pulling out various candies, and old movies from the 80s that they'd watched in highschool. There were pictures and if Stiles was to say so himself, it was a pretty ace present.

"Oh my god, thanks man," Scott grinned, before taring open a packet of licorice whips and stuffing one into his mouth. "This is awesome," he mumbled.

Isaac cleared his throat as Scott carefully put the lid back on Stiles present, "Uh, I got this, it's really for you and Allison, it's just...-" he handed over a card.

"Huh, thank you Isaac," Scott said absently turning the envelope over in his hands. Everyone went quiet again as Scott opened the envelope and pulled out the card, eyes going wide.

"Oh my god."

"What, what is it?" Allison asked.

"Isaac's paying for us to go to France," Scott said quietly, looking up at Allison, "With him and his wife, after our honeymoon."

What.

"Oh my god, Isaac," Scott said, eyes still like saucers.

There was a round of applause and happy squealing, as Stiles closed his eyes and pinched his brow. "Are you kidding me?"

The group went silent as Stiles got to his feet. "You're going to Paris? Really?! This whole thing fucking stinks, like, you don't just buy someone a holiday to Europe, that's not what normal people do!"

"Stiles," Scott said softly.

"No! I'm sick of being the only sane one around here! Isaac that is weird, it's like you're trying to fucking buy Scott's love! And Scott you're fucking falling for it!"

"Stiles!" Scott said more firmly, placing a hand on Stiles shoulder. "Enough."

"No Scott!" Stiles pleaded, shaking off his hand. "It's like I don't even know you anymore! Isaac has turned you into this whole new person, I mean, look around you! This isn't you, or at least this isn't the fucking Scott that I know."

"You know what Stiles? Maybe I'm not who you think I am because you're always so self-obsessed that you never pay attention to what's going on in my life!" Scott yelled. "People grow, people change Stiles, and maybe it's about time that you grew up!"

Scott had never yelled at Stiles before, but then Stiles had never really yelled at Scott either.

Stiles took a step back, blinked and turned on his heel and left before he did something he regretted.

 He didn't take one of the party favours on his way out, because who gave out live puppies as a party favour? That shit was just irresponsible.

 

~

 

It was three days after Scott's engagement party when the thunder and lightening had finally started.

They'd been expecting it for over a week, with the constant sweltering sunshine it as only a matter of time before the pressure cracked.

Stiles perked his head up at the flash outside his window and he frowned before there was the chaotic roll of accompanying thunder, and a small smile spread over his face. When he was a kid he used to be scared of thunder and lightening so his mom would make hot chocolate and a blanket fort with him then hide away until the storms subsided. Stiles got to his feet and turned off his TV, before heading through to the kitchen and turning on the stove to heat up some milk, getting out a mug and all of the supplies to prep up the best mug of hot chocolate ever, complete with mini marshmallows and whipped cream that he was 90% sure Ethan hadn't used for sex with Danny. While the milk was boiling he headed back to the living room and pulled the cushions off of the couch, shoving it closer to the TV then draping a blanket over the top of it all. The cushions were then propped up to form a back wall to his fort, before he wiggled his way back out, grabbed the hot chocolate then ducked back into the fort, hugging his knees to his chest as he watched the rain pour down outside.

His shoulders relaxed as he zoned out, staring at the weather until his eyes glazed over and he tilted his head back against the the couch, eyes fluttering shut.

He didn't hear his front door swing open, or the all to familiar clip-clop of heels across his wooden floor. He only started to stir when someone shoved his shoulder, blinking awake to see perfectly curled red hair surrounding a pale, unamused face.

 "Ah!" he yelped, jumping to his feet causing the blanket to fall over his head. He flailed, shoving the blanket off to the floor, before scowling at Lydia. "God, I knew I should've gotten the locks changed."

Lydia rolled her eyes, before  dropping down onto the armchair across from him with a predatory smile. "Hi, Stiles, it's been a long time."

Stiles slumped back down and crossed his arms, "Well, I wish I could say it was nice to see you, but..."

She sighed dismissively at him, "Let's not play the hurt ex card, Stiles-"

"Why not? I'm a hurt ex!" Stiles retorted, sitting down on the (cushion-less) couch and grabbing his hot chocolate off of the table.

"Stiles," Lydia said evenly, "I'm not gonna tell you what to feel, but you and I both know that we were over well before I left. You're channeling your heartbreak at the failure of the business onto your feelings towards me."

"God," Stiles sighed, head tilting back. "I'd forgotten how annoying you could be."

Lydia smiled at that, "Anyway, I'm worried about you."

"Are you? That's a surprise considering it'd been four months since we spoke."

Lydia rolled her eyes, "You're not making this easy for me Stilinski-"

"Oh I'm not making this easy for you? It looked pretty easy when you walked out the door."

Lydia's eyes narrowed and the smile fell from her face. Stiles swallowed; he'd taken it too far.

"Easy? You think breaking up with you was easy?"

“Well you swanned off to New York without a backwards glance," Stiles bit out.

Lydia kept her gaze firmly on him, unblinking, "Now listen to me Stiles; breaking up with you was one of the hardest things I've ever done. Have you ever broken up with someone, not because they're wrong, but because they’re not right?" 

Stiles sighed, head hanging, "No."

"Exactly. Everyone thought I was a bitch, Stiles, we had so many friends in common, we had the business, the apartment, and I had to walk away and leave everything-"

"You didn't have to just leave, Lyds," Stiles tried, Lydia wasn’t having any of it though..

"Sweetheart, of course I did, 'cause otherwise I would've been the bitch who kicked you out of your apartment, and stole all your friends," Lydia took in a deep breath, before her tone softened. "You know what I mean now though, right? We weren't... right."

Stiles wished he couldn't see it, but he could; being with Lydia had been... easy fundamentally they hadn't worked. He sighed, "What are you here for Lyds?"

She looked at him sadly, "You and Scott have had a fall out."

"What about it?" Stiles bit back. He could still hear the thunder crackling in the background, like a drum roll, so he closed his eyes, put down his hot chocolate and brought his legs up onto the couch.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Lydia, I've just ruined Scott's bachelor party and Allison's and Scott's wedding shower, but that's okay 'cause at least I've got a date with a sexy cop. No wait? What, I wrecked that too? Any and all hopes dashed!? Wow, my life is going great right now," Stiles hissed. "Not to mention the twins just informed me that they're kicking me out of the apartment, I've gotta move out by Tuesday so I'll officially be homeless on top of being unemployed!"

As Stiles took a deep breath, Lydia looked up from examining her nails, "Are you quite done?"

"What is that not enough misery for you?" Stiles blinked.

"I can't bring myself to care too much about your self pity," Lydia said, "It's quite unattractive."

"Well we're not sleeping together anymore so I get to be as unattractive as I want," Stiles said childishly. He fought the urge to stick out his tongue at her

Lydia rolled her eyes and got to her feet before sitting down next to him and pulling out an envelope.

Stiles eyed her curiously, taking the envelope and flipping it over to see his name written in Lydia's swirly handwriting on the front. "What's this?"

"My half of the business," Lydia informed him. "I understand it was your idea so you bought it, but really that place was half mine; I put in as much time and effort as you did, it's only fair I pay for half of it."

Stiles' eyes went as wide as saucers before he tried to shove the envelope back into Lydia's hands. She folded her arms.

"Lyds, I can't accept this-"

 "You can and will, Stilinski," Lydia said firmly. "I don't need it, and I don't feel right not paying my fair share. If the business had gone well then right now I would be demanding my share of the profits."

Stiles sighed, before looking up with a grateful smile. "Thanks, Lyds."

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and he leaned his head on her shoulders. "I've missed you Stiles," she muttered.

"I won't tell anyone," he promised. She punched his shoulder lightly, pulling back with a laugh, "Now make sure you get a new apartment; I don't want to hear about you ending up living with your dad."

Stiles let out a sigh of relief, "Thank god, I thought that was actually gonna happen for a little while; I didn't think that I could handle being unemployed and living with my dad now that I'm 30."

Lydia snorted, "I don't think I could associate with you if you did."

"Glad to hear you care Lyds," Stiles paused and sighed again, "What am I gonna do?"

"About...?"

Stiles shot her a look, "You know what I'm talking about. Scott! And sexy cop!"

Lydia sighed, slumping back against the sofa, "This is horribly uncomfortable."

"Well the cushions are over there," Stiles gestured to the floor.

Lydia pursed her lips, and sighed, "No shit, sherlock."

Stiles couldn't keep back the laugh.

 When Lydia had walked out on him she had left him sitting naked on their kitchen floor, mourning the loss of the future that he had assumed was inevitable. In hindsight he wasn't even sure if he particularly wanted it, but it wasn't a bad life he'd had, and it had been easy. It'd been easy to blame Lydia for his feelings, easy to blame her for the business that was long dead before she left, easy to blame her for everything, so he assumed that he wouldn't get to be Lydia's friend again; he pretended he didn't really want to.

 But to be sitting bantering back and forth like they used to before they dated? Well Stiles hadn't quite realised how much he'd missed it.

"I don't know how to fix your problems," Lydia said finally, reaching over and taking his hot chocolate from him. "But I'd say the first step would be getting out of the blanket fort."

"There's a storm," Stiles defended; Lydia was well aware of his habit during storms.

"I mean figuratively; what have you been doing since you and Scott had a fight?"

Stiles shuffled in the chair, starting to pick at the hem of his jeans, "Sitting around the apartment."

"And what have you done since you got fired?" Lydia demanded. "Have you started looking for a new job?"

"...No," Stiles admitted.

Lydia sighed, "Life's not gonna hand you something on a platter Stiles, you've gotta work for it. You don't want a shitty job? Take some of that money you've got in that envelope and open up a new bakery, I know you've not got much debt. You want your friends back? Apologize! You were kind of a dick."

"I wasn't a dick!" Stiles yelped defensively.

Lydia fixed him with a look, "I was at the wedding shower, not that you have noticed since you were so preoccupied with your hate-on for Isaac. You were an asshole, especially to Scott."

"Yeah, well he was an asshole first," Stiles said stubbornly.

"Well it's his wedding. He's allowed. You should also apologize to Allison, you ruined her wedding shower too."

Stiles paused before wincing, "Fuck I forgot about that."

"Yup."

"I'll apologize to Allison," Stiles said after a beat. "Not Scott. Not yet, he doesn't want me around-"

"He's Scott, he always wants you around."

"Not anymore; I think I really messed up," Stiles said sadly.

Lydia slung an arm over his shoulder, and he wormed down to get more comfortable, resting his head on her chest as she stroked his hair. He hadn't had anyone hold him like that in so long.

"Can we be friends again?" Stiles asked.

"Yes. Now first things first, we need to get you a place to live. I don't wanna you sleeping on my couch."

 

~

 

The next day, and three apartment viewings later, Stiles steppd out onto the side walk and phoned Lydia.

"I'm never gonna find a new apartment," Stiles whined as soon as Lydia picked up the phone. "That one I just viewed didn't have a toilet."

"Stiles-"

"It's not that bad I suppose," Stiles pretended to muse. "The guy showing me around did promise to have one installed within a month, and I guess I can just piss in the sink and shit in the restaurant across the street in the meantime."

"Are you quite done?" Lydia asked sharply.

"What, why?"

"I think I've found something for you, meet me downtown at Starbucks in an hour."

 

~

 

"No way," Stiles said. "That can not be in my price range."

He was stood next to Lydia infront of a for sale sign, clutching both of their Starbucks cups.

"Eh, it's got a little history," Lydia said airily, waving her hand. "Reduces the price."

Stiles frowned, "What did someone die in there?"

 "Three someones," Lydia responded quickly. "Pretty gruesome really. I wouldn't recommend looking up the pictures online if you're going to live here. C'mon, Denise will be waiting for us."

Lydia flipped her hair over one shoulder, before strutting forward into the building through the open door.

Stiles leaned back on his heels, looking up the building; it was pretty, in a busy part of town, with a shop downstairs and an apartment upstairs. He sighed, and headed into the building, pushing the door open with one hip before holding the Starbucks out to Lydia.

"If I get my ass murdered by a ghost Lydia, I swear to god-"

"Don't be stupid,' Lydia said. "There's no such thing- Oh hi, Denise!"

Stiles head jerked around as the back door to the shop swung open to reveal a professional looking, middle-aged real estate agent wearing a red pencil skirt and blue pinstripe blouse. She smiled widly, stepping forward with her arms open, "Lydia, it's been to long darling," she leant forward and pressed a kiss Lydia's cheek; Lydia kissed back. "How's that apartment down on south street?"

"Oh, I've moved to New York now, I broke up with the guy I was living with," Lydia informed her. "I'm just in town for a wedding, and to help my friend, Stiles here."

 Denise's gaze switched to Stiles and she pursed her lips, "You're going to run a business?"

"Stiles is quite capable," Lydia interrupted. "Since Papa John's bakery's shut down there's no competition, not to mention the location makes this place perfect."

Denise seemed satisfied with Lydia's response at least, so so she sighed and put on her bright smile. "So anyway, as you can see, this is the shop front, there's plenty of area for seating."

Stiles nodded, taking in the shop front. It was nice; nicer than his last place anyway, maybe around the same size. There was a layer of dust coating everything but that could be cleaned at least. "Can I see the kitchens?"

"Sure," Denise said, turning on her heel and heading towards the door behind the counter. "Follow me."

Stiles fell in line behind Lydia and followed Denise through to the back room. The kitchen was a meddle-sized room, with lots of wooden countertops and not an awful lot of appliances left. He pursed his lips at the sight of the cooker, shoulders slumping.

"What is it?" Lydia said quickly.

"No, it's nothing-"

"Stiles," Lydia said, warning edge to her voice.

Stiles sighed and gestured at the cooker, it was a simple four ring electric monstrosity. "Well the kitchen needs a lot of work, for one thing I need at least 3 ovens and six hobs, also is there a gas line in?" Stiles asked.

"Well it is gas heating," Denise supplied. "You'd probably have to get pipes put in leading to wherever you'd want the cookers."

"Yeah I thought so," Stiles said. "I'd also need have a walk in fridge/freezer put in, all these counters will have to get torn out, they're not up to health and safety standard-"

"What's wrong with them" Denise demanded.

"Health and safety, you can't have even fake wood, it's gotta be stainless steel. It's also impractical, you can't burn steel but you can burn plastic."

Lydia tilted her head, "So the kitchen needs a lot of work is what you’re saying."

"Yeah," Stiles sighed. "A lot, It'll be very difficult to get this place up and running fast enough to start bring in money."

"Well," Denise said, clapping her hands together. "Let’s not count the place out to quickly, you haven’t seen the apartment yet."

 She gestured to the spiral stairs at the back of the kitchen, and Stiles had the sinking feeling that it was probably another a health code violation to have stairs straight from the kitchen into his apartment without any doors . Lydia went infront of him, marching straight up the stairwell. Stiles followed up after her, as he heard the impatient 'tap' of her shoe on the hardwood floors.

"Stiles, this place is lovely," she informed him.

Stiles nodded, as he stepped out into the apartment. The stairs opened straight into the living room, which had four large windows on the wall facing the street which let in a helluva lot of light. The place was empty, with wooden floors and pale white walls. Stiles jumped as Lydia started to stroll around the room, hands clasped firmly behind her back, heels clicking loudly against the wood.

"How many rooms is it?" Stiles asked, spinning to look at the estate agent.

"The previous owner removed the kitchen, as he just used the downstairs one in the store. Presuming that you would be okay with this set up? Two bedrooms, one bathroom."

Stiles nodded. The room was long, with two doors on the furthest away wall and another behind him. He turned and opened it to reveal the bathroom.

"What's it like, Stiles?" Lydia called.

Stiles shut the door and gave her a shrug, "Functional enough. It's a bathroom."

Lydia sighed and rolled her eyes before she pushed past him into the bathroom. He shoved his hands into his pockets and raised his eyebrows at the estate agent as they heard Lydia shuffle around the bathroom. There was a pause before they heard the shower shudder to life before quickly being switched off again, then the flush of the toilet, and finally the taps being turned on and off before Lydia appeared again.

"The water pressure seems functional enough," she said after a pause.

"Right then," Stiles said, turning from her back towards the doors at the end of the room. "I'm gonna check out the bedrooms."

The first one he entered was the one that must've been the kitchen once upon a time, since it still had lino down on the floors. Either the person who lived there before had been a cheapskate or the line the Estate agent was feeding him to be able to market it as a 2 bedroom apartment was a bold lie.

Lydia appeared at his shoulder, "Lino?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.

"Yeah," Stiles said, frowning. "Exactly."

The estate agent was wisely quiet as they pushed open the door to the other bedroom, which was a lot better than the first. The hardwood floors had continued in from the living room, and this bedroom also had the big long windows. Lydia was wrinkling her nose at them but Stiles was grinning.

 Back in college, when he was in his senior year living in a loft, he had big-ass windows all down one wall and had ended up getting fucked against them in celebration of the completion of their final exams.

This apartment was probably on too low of a floor to get away with that.

"Nice sized room," Lydia said, before knocking on the bedroom wall. "Maybe the walls are a little thin."

"Well it's not like I'm living here with anyone else," Stiles reasoned, before turning to the estate agent. "About that, can I ask, what's upstairs?"

"Oh well there's two more floors to the building. The one directly above you is two apartments and the one above that is just one; they can be reached by that side door next to the front so you don't have to worry about that."

Stiles let out a low whistle, "Those two apartments above me must be cramped, I mean, don't get me wrong, this place has plenty of space, especially just for myself, but-"

"They're studio apartments," Denise interrupted. "Now is there anything else I can help you with?"

Stiles glanced over at Lydia who pursed her lips and folded her arms, "No that's fine, Denise, we'll have a think about it and get back to you, okay?"

 Denise sighed, obviously mourning the loss of her commission.

 

~

 

They went to the park after that, stopping briefly to get ice creams before they sat down on a bench; Stiles slumped low with his legs spread while Lydia sat up straight, eating her ice cream as neatly as she could.

"I think I'm broken," Stiles said after a while, before sticking his tongue out and taking a big lick of the ice cream.

"Why?" Lydia asked, in a tone that conveyed no curiosity in the answer what so ever.

"I'm not at all turned on by you right now," Stiles said slowly, "I think it's a problem."

 Lydia paused.

"Maybe it's cause you're over me?"

"Must be," Stiles said, before his tongue darted out once more, licking up the melted dribbles from the sides of the cone. "Thanks for coming with me today, especially since I'm sure you've got a lot of wedding shit to be organising."

Lydia shrugged, "Everything's in place really. The wedding's in three weeks so there's not much I can do until the last minute now. I'm too organised."

"Oh," Stiles responded. "How'd you get so much time off from work?"

"I'm working from here," Lydia answered. "I have skype meetings, that kinda thing. It's not truly sustainable but it means I can be out here for the month and I've been flying in and out ever since the engagement was announced."

Stiles paused, "That was nice of you."

 "Allison's my best friend," Lydia replied easily. "What else was I supposed to do?'

Stiles shrugged, before he shoved the top of the ice cream cone into his mouth and bit down. He chewed up the wafer and swallowed, staring out at the duck pond infront of them while Lydia broke up her cone and threw it to the birds.

"Let's tell them I want it, I want the apartment," Stiles said finally.

It was the only possible outcome really; the apartment may have not had a kitchen and the shop's kitchen may have been pretty shitty condition and everything was going to need a thorough clean but it was affordable, it was a job, and it would mean he didn't have to live with his Dad.

"Give it a few days and we can drop the price," Lydia informed him.

"But what if someone else wants it before then?!"

Lydia looked at him over the top of her sunglasses; "Stiles, there was a triple homicide that took place here and the murderer bathed in their blood."

Stiles paled, "You never said that! Oh god, I don't want to know anymore," Stiles stuck his fingers in his ears, "Lalalalala"

Lydia laughed and reached up to pull his hand out, "You great big idiot, stop that. I'll let them know tomorrow afternoon, how about that?"

"Deal," Stiles grinned.

 

~

 

Once he got his car fixed, Stiles left a cake on Officer Hale's porch with the words 'I'm sorry, let's have sex?" iced on the top.

He'd started a pin board full of ideas for ways to apologize to Derek; At the start they'd been nice and well explained but by the end of the week he'd descended into scrawled words, swears and torn up notes before he finally snapped at midnight and decided to try and be funny.

After leaving it on the porch he'd driven past at every opportunity to see if the cake disappeared. Eventually he saw Derek step over it on his way to work.

They'd made awkward eye contact.

Stiles had slammed his foot down on the gas and sped away so fast that he was surprised Derek didn't feel obligated to flag him down and give him a ticket.

When he went to visit his dad the day after, he'd taken a 20 minute detour so as not to go down Derek's street.

 

~

 

 After staying on Lydia's couch for two weeks, Stiles moved into his new apartment the day before Scott's wedding.

He and Scott still hadn't spoken; Stiles had lost his phone in the move though so for all he knew Scott might have tried to get in touch with him, but he didn't put much faith in it.

He'd actually been given the keys a week before but Stiles had spent the remainder of Lydia's envelope of cash that he hadn't used on the down payment, on doing up the kitchen so that he could start doing orders and deliveries if he wasn't quite up to the task of opening the store front.

Stiles slept curled up on his living room rug that night, wrapped up in blankets and comforters, without a pillow because he wasn't sure where they had been packed away.

 He’d left a bright sign on his window saying he was open for orders and for anyone enquiring just to come in and ring the bell on the countertop, he hadn't expected anyone to ring it so quickly.  He didn't have much furniture upstairs, just a rug, sofa and a couple boxes of clothes with no where to put them, but the kitchen was fully stocked and ready to go. He needed an income again.

But there he was, star-fished out on his rug the morning of Scott's wedding, cereal bowl in hand, when the sound of his doorbell rung through the apartment. Stiles glanced at his watch; it was only 8 am, who on earth was at the door?

Stiles stood up and grabbed his slippers and hurried down the stairwell into the kitchen and out into the store front to see his dad standing there, fully kitted out in his suit and tie.

 "Hey Daddy," Stiles smiled.

"So, this is the place?" His dad said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Care to give me a tour?"

Stiles grinned and stepped out from behind the counter, pulling his dad in for a hug, "For you? Sure."

His dad patted him on the back and stepped back. Stiles held an arm out, "After you."

Once they were finished with the tour he made his dad a decaf coffee and the two of them sat down in his mostly empty livingroom.

"So, son, are you going today? It's Scott's big day."

"Yeah, exactly," Stiles said with a sigh, before he slumped back. "I don't want to wreck that as well."

"Stiles,' his dad sighed.

"No dad, Scott doesn't want me there," Stiles said sadly. "I'm respecting his wishes."

His dad frowned and clapped him on the shoulder, "I'm gonna have to go pick up Melissa and get to the ceremony. You gonna be okay, kid?"

"Yeah, dad I'll be fine," Stiles said, exhaling loudly. "Go pick up Melissa, I'm sure she looks amazing."

"You sure?"

Stiles laughed and shoved his father, "Yeah, c'mon, get out of here."

They tumbled down the stairs, back out into the store front to find Isaac stood on the other side of the countertop. Stiles frowned, "Isaac? What are you doing here?"

"Stiles, I need your help," Isaac said, shoulders slumped.

Stiles frowned, "Uh okay... Dad, you better get going, go get Melissa. I'll call you later okay?"

His dad nodded, "Right, I'll talk to you later Sitles."

He watched as his dad left the shop before he spun back and glared at Isaac. "What d'you want?" Stiles spat.

"Have you seen Scott? We can't find him anywhere. Lydia thought you might know..."

"Scott, no, what, you mean you don't know where he his?!" Stiles asked incredulously. "You lost him?! It's Scott! This is his wedding! What the hell did you do?!"

"I don't know! Everything was going fine then we went to go get him this morning and he was gone!" Isaac said, running a hand through his hair.

Stiles sighed, "Right lemme get my coat, I think I know someone who can help us."

 

~

 

The 'someone' Stiles knew was Derek Hale.

He could've gone to his dad to get help, but that would've meant telling his dad they'd lost Scott, which would've probably meant telling Melissa that they'd lost Scott, which would've lead to a lot more trouble than if he kpet it between just him and Isaac.

He'd gotten Isaac into the Jeep, and they were heading down the highway, keeping an eye out for for the familiar police cruiser.

He was also tuning out Isaac who had taken to rambling away about "I don't know what's happened, everything was fine, I mean, I even organised his dad to be in town," Isaac said.

Stiles almost swerved the car into the barrier, before he turned to Isaac with wide eyes, "What the fuck!?"

“I invited almost everyone in Scott's contact book!" Isaac yelped, diving away from Stiles who tried to swat at him with his free hand.

"Scott doesn't talk to his dad for good fucking reason, Isaac!" Stiles yelled. "Though I'm surprised you don't know that, since you're his best-"

“Stiles! Stiles, A police cruiser!" Isaac yelped. Stiles slammed his foot down on the break so hard, sendinging his shuddering to a halt maybe ten yards infront Derek's cruiser. Stiles shifted the jeep into reverse, and drove backwards until he was level with Derek’s car. Derek was pointedly ignoring him, reading his newspaper. Stiles sighed and leaned over Isaac to roll down his window.

"Hey! HEY!" Stiles waved his arms, before he unclipped his seatbelt and leant further out of the window so that he could knock on Derek's window.

Derek didn't look up.

"DEREK!" Stiles yelled, "Derek, please! I need your help."

Derek sighed, shoulders huffing, before he turned and rolled down his window. "What is it, Stiles?"

"We've lost Scott, he's disappeared last night."

Derek shot him an exasperated look, "For the love of god, Stiles, it's twenty-four hours before it's a missing person and then you can go to the police-station with this."

"Derek, please? It's his wedding day. Can you not do something?"

Derek blinked, before he let out a defeated sigh, "Fine. Gimme his cell number."

"Thank you thank you thank you!" Stiles yammered, grin shining across his face. He wormed back into his seat and jumped out of the jeep, running around to the police cruiser. "Right, now Scott's number... here, here it is," he handed over the phone.

Derek sighed, and got to work tracking down the number. Stiles slumped back against the Jeep, relief evident in his expression, while Isaac was half leaning out of the window, a worried expression on his face as he yammered apologies in Stiles ear. Stiles ignored him.

"Right, he's on the corner of 8th and Madison, you know where that is?"

Stiles frowned, "His apartment?!" He spun and jammed a finger into Isaacs chest, "You forgot to check his home?!"

"We checked it last night!"

"YOU GOT ME TO GO TO THE POLICE WITHOUT CHECKING HIS HOME A SECOND FUCKING TIME?!" Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose, "Y'know what? It's fine, it's fine, just... let's go get Scott."

He turned back to Derek and shrugged his shoulders, sticking his hands in his pockets, "Uh, thanks for that, I'm sorry to, uh, waste your time."

 "No, it's fine," Derek said with a sad smile. "I... just take care, okay?"

"Yeah, you too, Der."

 

~

 

They pulled up outside Scott's apartment block, and Isaac moved to get out. Stiles put a hand on his arm, "Uh, would you mind if I went up?"

"Sure," Isaac nodded, settling back in his seat.

On the way up the stairwell Stiles phoned his dad and told him to escort Mr McCall from the wedding.

He grabbed the spare key from the top of Scott's door frame and let himself in. Scott was sitting on the edge of his bed with his legs pulled up to his chest, a lost expression on his face.

"Hey Scotty," Stiles said softly as he sat down next to him. "Buddy, how you doing?"

"Everything's ruined," he mumbled.

"It's okay, I've already told my dad that your dad is not to be there," Stiles said, wrapping his arms around Scott. "What else is wrong?"

Scott took a deep breath, burying his head into Stiles shoulder, "I..." he cleared his throat, "I can't do this without you man, I shouldn't have kicked you out the wedding."

"Well I shouldn't have been such an asshole," Stiles retorted, "We all do shit."

"I just... I don't want to lose you, okay?" Scott blinked, "I love Allison, I love her so much man, you know how much I love her, but you're my brother Stiles, okay? And I just... I'm not gonna be living just down the street anymore, I'm gonna have responsibilities and married friends and I don't want things to change, okay?"

 Stiles took a breath and pulled away, "Scott, listen to me, you could move 500 miles away and it wouldn't make a difference to our relationship, okay? Now I know you adore Allison more than anything, and we need to get your ass to the church so she doesn't think you've stood her up."

Scott's head jerked up, a wounded expression colouring his features, "She knows I wouldn't do that... right?"

"Well, I would say so, but then if she walks up that aisle and you're not there she might doubt you a little bit," Stiles laughed. Scott punched him in the shoulder.

They headed out the apartment, Stiles’ arm wrapped around Scott's waist before the clambered into the back of his car.

Isaac gave him a small smile and whispered 'thank you' to Stiles as they drove away.

Stiles smiled back. 

 

 

Aside from the rather manic morning, and temporarily loosing the groom, the wedding went off without a hitch. It was huge, too huge for Scott and Allison to pay for but Stiles was certain that Isaac was going to foot some of the bill. Stiles had stood up next to Scott at the altar, and had (graciously, if he did say so himself) allowed Isaac to make the first best man speech, following up with his own hastily improvised toast. He'd danced with Lydia during the first dance, and he'd watched his dad and Scott's mom waltz away into the night, which he was sure was really their way of letting Stiles and Scott know that they were dating. Scott had found him and leaning against the buffet with champagne in hand, and stood next to him, a grin spreading across his face.

"You okay with it?" Stiles lifted his glass towards where Melissa had rested her chin on Stiles' dad's shoulder.

"Them? Pffft, I've been trying to get them together for years. You?"

"'Course, Scott, who do you think it was that got Dad to ask her to dance in the first place?"

Scott laughed and wrapped an arm over his shoulder. "I'm gonna have to go, honeymoon and all that. Are you gonna be okay?"

Stiles paused, "Yeah, I am. I'll make sure the bakery's up and running by the time you're back."

"Lyds told me you'd bought a bakery. We'll catch up properly soon buddy, I'm back in two weeks," Scott promised, squeezing him tight.

Stiles beamed before he wrapped both arms around Scott. Scott hugged him back tightly, "I'll hold you to that."

 

~

 

2 weeks later

The bell by the door tinkled to alert Stiles to the presence of someone else in his bakery. He was open, technically, but it was also 6:30am and he'd already done the early morning rush. Stiles wiped his hands on a dish cloth, trying to clean off as many of the smears chocolate as he could. He definetly needed to hire someone to help him, the place was already getting way too busy for him to deal with by himself.

The bell was rung again, impatiently, Stiles rolled his eyes, "Calm your tits, I'm coming, I'm coming!"

 Stiles pushed open the door from the kitchen with an impatient sigh, before he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Derek," Stiles said.

Derek was stood on the other side of his counter, giving him this half smile with his hands tucked into his pockets and a leather jacket slung over his shoulders and fuck, Stiles still wanted to climb that like a tree. "Hey there. Your dad's been telling everyone at the station how proud he was of your new place so I thought I'd come check it out."

Stiles blinked, before glancing at his watch, "It's six am."

"I was on the night shift," Derek shrugged.

"And you decided to change before coming to visit my bakery?"

Derek sighed, "Can you not just let some things go, Stiles?"

"What are you talking about? I totally let lots of things go! For example, my hatred of Isaac, I let that go so much it's floating away, high-"

 Stiles couldn't finish his sentence, as he was cut off by Derek yanking him across the countertop by the front of his apron and kissing him. Stiles blinked, before he shut his eyes and tilted his head slightly to the left, putting a hand on the base of Derek's neck.

Derek gasped, before he pulled his mouth away and let go of Stiles, head bowed, "Christ Stiles, do you never shut up?"

"I can think of a few tried and tested measures that've worked in past," Stiles breathed. Derek blinked at him, before he started to laugh heartily.

Derek stepped back slightly, blush rising over his cheeks.

"Does this mean you fancy getting a drink sometime?" Stiles blurted out.

There was a pause, followed by another laugh, and Derek grinned at him. "Yeah, I think that sounds good."

Derek stepped forward and grabbed a pen and paper from the countertop, before he hastily scrawled down his phone number. "Why don't you gimme a call?"

Stiles grinned and took the piece of paper, "Sure," he said, saluting before Derek turned on his heel and started to walk away.

When he pulled open the door, Stiles yelled; "Wait!"

Derek turned, frowning, "Yeah?"

"Uh, well, I was wondering... you said you didn't know how to bake and, uh, I'm just about to make some profiteroles  if you want to learn?"

"Yeah," Derek said, turning back around and letting the door swing closed. He pulled off his jacket and stepped behind the counter, putting a hand on Stiles' hip. "I'd like that."

 Stiles smirked, as put his hand on Derek's jaw and pulled him forward for a kiss. Five minutes later they were rudely interrupted by the alarm warning Stiles about his pastries.

So what if they may have gotten a bit burnt? Stiles was just an honest citizen doing his best to help an officer of the law, after all.

Scott ate the burnt pastries when he came over later on and pressed Stiles for all the details. Stiles may have gave him too many details.

(He may have also neglected to tell Scott that Derek was asleep in his bed until Derek woke up padded through to the living room in nothing but his boxers. Scott wasn’t pleased. Stiles didn’t care.)

 

~

 

Fin.

 


End file.
